Stormy Desert
by Quasar2017
Summary: After the rise of the Empire, Ben Kenobi is mourning on Tatooine, having lost all hope in life. That is, until a presence shows up one night...in this story, Satine Kryze survived the events of "the Lawless". More characters: Bo-Katan, the Lars family
1. Nightly surprise

**Ben Kenobi is alone in his hut on Tatooine, having as much fun as a lonely Jedi is supposed to be having after the rise of the Empire. Unexpectedly, someone knocks at his door...**

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Ben had returned to his dismal hut after a day spent meditating under the scorching suns.

He removed his boots, emptied his pockets from bucketfuls of sand and plopped himself on his stone-carved bed; then he remembered that he should rather tackle some house chores that could no longer wait.

Obi-Wan used to be tidy, once, but Ben was slovenly, his inability to put things in order mirroring his mental state.

He went outside to collect water from the DIY vaporator he had put together to avoid begging for necessities at Owen's.

One more step towards complete hermitage: successful.

Once back inside, Ben moved a few boxes around, striving to obtain a semblance of tidiness, before giving up completely.

What was the point of it, anyway? It wasn't like anyone would visit him. It wasn't like he had a reputation to preserve. __Reputation__ , ah. Such a funny word, to the ears of one of the most wanted fugitives in the galaxy.

He would warm himself up with dinner, instead.

Clearing his throat, he crouched on a pew pot, filling it with water and...what else?

The pantry was empty, save for one single half-rotten pika, which he would save for the morning. Not able to turn a blind eye to his food situation any longer, he would have to make the trek to Mos Eisley to gather supplies the next day. An encounter with other life-forms, oh the delight.

That night, Ben restlessly tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep, be it for the fear of recurring nightmares, be it for his itchy skin. All that UV exposure and sand sure didn't benefit him.

It was on nights like that one when Ben wondered if he should have died alongside the other Jedi during the Order 66 purge. It was on nights like that one, when he couldn't even chase haunting dreams away, that despair took over and he no longer knew who he was.

His life wouldn't improve, but it was fine: he deserved to be punished, for all the harm he had caused. With this thought in mind, he forcibly closed his eyes shut, but when he did, the faces of the ones he had lost punctually came visiting him, accusing him, shedding corrosive tears that ate into his flesh. Their voices got louder, as well as a rapping noise...

RAT-TAT-TAT

Wait a minute. The noise was real? Someone was at the door?

Ben's pity party was over as quickly as it'd begun. In a moment he was on his feet, lightsaber deactivated but at ready as he stealthily peeked from a window to get a view of the outside.

No-one in sight.

Strange, he thought he'd sensed a presence somewhere nearby...

With caution, Ben opened the door slightly, squeezing his way out through the small opening. Since he couldn't see anything in the dark, he would have to rely on the Force completely.

He moved a step forward, only to bump into __something__. Scared, Ben gave a start, igniting his lightsaber as a reflex, an unforgivable mistake in case anyone was trying to frame him. Deactivating it back, Ben looked at his feet only to find a...box.

A box? Who would go all the way to his hut in the wastelands to deliver him a box? Was it a trap?

Curiosity got the better of him, so Ben, with a wooden shaft he had procured himself, tore the tape that held the box together, revealing its content. What he saw left him gaping: food supplies and toiletries.

Among the items, there was plenty of the freshest-looking fruit he had seen since the Clone Wars, a packet of tea, bloddles and podpoppers, spelt flatbread, an expensive-looking bar of imported soap and even a sunscreen tube that read "for human - twi'lek topical use only". Overall, enough stuff to live comfortably for a month or so.

If Ben was on the alert before, now he was discombobulated. Who? Why?

He sniffed the food, looking for traces of poison, but he found none. He had a benefactor, apparently, and didn't know what to think about it.

Evidently, whomever had delivered the box knew him well enough to guess what kind of goods he was in desperate need of. And it wasn't all: they had also thought of pampering him with products he was fond of, like tea and shampoo.

Ben was worried. Was someone spying on him?

While on the one hand he felt threatened, on the other he reasoned that it was a very unusual behavior for an ill-intentioned individual to drop a box of goods and then disappear.

Perhaps Owen or Beru pitied him to the point of showing some generosity. As unlikely as it seemed, this theory lost even more consistency in light of one fact: the majority of the toiletries he was given were luxury (by Tatooine standards) items the Larses wouldn't buy for themselves, let alone for a freaky hermit like himself. Beru and Owen were homemade-bantha-lard-soap-kind-of-farmers, blueblossom shower oil - among other things - wasn't in their style at all.

After racking his brain, Ben decided to retreat in the hut: the last traces of the presence faded, it would be useless to remain outside at this point.

For the rest of the night, and for the entire day afterwards, the presence didn't show up again.


	2. Revelations

**Ben wonders who his mysterious benefactor could be. It looks like tonight he will be getting his answer, after all...**

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 _ _The next night__

Refreshed and sated, Ben was about to go to bed. He was so full he thought he might actually fall asleep right away, perhaps for the first time since arriving on Tatooine.

All thanks to his mysterious benefactor, whose purpose (and identity) was a riddle he'd mulled over the whole day. He was baffled, he couldn't deny it.

Lying at the bottom of the box, he even saw a small, scented satin bag with drawstrings containing a handful of seeds, something he found inexplicably romantic.

Ben wondered what had escaped his notice in all of this, exactly. He knew his depression impaired his Force abilities somewhat, but this was disconcerting.

However, as much as he tried to demonize the intentions behind the gift, he realized he couldn't. The box was so personalized it was inebriating.

Feeling more confused than ever, Ben blew the candles out and slipped in bed. Hopefully, a decent night's rest would help him see through things more clearly the next morning.

He didn't have to wait long before falling into Morpheus' welcoming arms, dreaming of deep seas and lush prairies and rapping noises...wait, rapping noises?!

RAT-TAT-TAT

The __presence__.

Throwing caution out the window, quick as a feline, Ben was instantly on his feet, catapulting himself at the door, bursting it open with the Force, nearly running into a hooded figure which stood still on the threshold.

Ben stopped abruptly, flushed.

A woman. The presence was a woman...and he knew her. He couldn't see her eyes, but he knew she could see his incredulous ones.

"How? Why?" he simply asked, out of breath.

The woman lowered her hood and unwound the scarf from her face. As she did so, a cascade of blonde hair fell upon her shoulders.

Ben let out a gasp. He thought he would never see her again.

"I had to know" Satine Kryze simply answered "I can live with your passing, Obi-Wan. You know I've already mourned you. What I can't live with is uncertainty. Pure torture. I __had__ to find you"

Ben's eyes were getting slightly moist, but he jerked his feelings away.

"You must be tired" he invited her in, with a trembling voice.

Once inside, Satine and Ben looked at each other awkwardly. Ben offered to take her cloak, suddenly embarrassed for the chaos that reigned everywhere. He felt exposed in a way he wasn't comfortable showing.

As he rigged a sort of makeshift puff seat up for her, he recognized shock in her face. Not in the mood for answering questions, he decided to be the one asking, instead.

"It was you who sent me the box, wasn't it?" he started, not quite sure where to begin.

"I assumed basic sustenance supplies wouldn't be easy to come by in the middle of the desert" she replied diplomatically, the majority of her thoughts and worries unspoken.

"You spent the night in the desert?" Ben inquired, aggravated, as he poured her some water in a clay cup.

"Wouldn't be the first time" she replied dryly "I procured myself a tent"

Ben nodded, biting his lip, a million concerns crowding his mind. It was utterly surreal to have her there, in front of him.

"Satine, how did you find me?"

She sighed: "It is a long story"

Then, taking notice of Ben's tense posture, she quickly added: "Fear not, I took precautions not to be tracked. Your secret is safe"

Ben gulped, wondering how much she knew. He waited for her to continue, watching her as she stood up, clay cup still in in her hands.

"I was tired of running for my life, all by myself. I could cope with everything as long as I had something to fight for, but at one point, there was nothing left for me to do but to hide. Bail Organa offered me refuge on Alderaan, on reciprocal collaboration grounds. You see, with his... _ _vision__ , he needs all the allies he can get"

Ben raised an eyebrow, puzzled, but Satine continued "He said no friend of his would be left behind. I agreed, neither would any of __mine__ " she pierced him with her eyes.

Ben opened his mouth, as if to say something, but thought better of it.

"I betrayed the Organa's trust by seizing confidential information, but I don't regret it: as soon as I realized they might actually be aware of your whereabouts, I __had__ to dig deeper" she clenched a fist, looking passionate all of a sudden "I dared not hoping I would find you alive"

That being said, she couldn't hold it any longer and wrapped her arms tightly around him, rocking him slightly.

Her hug revealed all the sufferance she'd gone through, however Ben, instead of returning the embrace, stiffened, his eyes empty.

Perceiving his discomfort, Satine backed away, studying his face. She was used to his aloof Jedi-ness, but this time, he seemed different. He was changed.

Satine swallowed, realizing what this could mean.

"Now that I found you, my hope is revived. The things we could still achieve..."

"I'm afraid there's nothing left for me to achieve, Duchess. My sole purpose lies in the service of others" he cut her short, solemnly.

Satine shook her head, undeterred "I understand, but you don't need to go through everything alone. I could stay by your side, you need only ask"

Ben cowered slightly.

"Would you?" she asked.

He lowered his eyes, not answering.

Truth was, Ben was at loss for words. He was positive she didn't have a clue of how much self-restraint he was exerting not to return her affections. If he were to follow his desires, he would hold her till the end of times, exuding happiness for the redeeming, brave love she was offering his undeserving soul. Fear, however, held him back.

Ben knew how much she meant to him, and he also knew how dangerous it was to be close to him: he had played no little part in Anakin, Qui-Gon, Padmé and the Jedi's demise.

Would he be able to inflict such a curse upon her? No. He loved her too much to doom her to a tragic end, one which she'd already narrowly escaped, always because of him. She would have to go, save herself, even if sending her away destroyed him.

"Let me prepare your bed, Duchess" he proposed kindly, after a pause.

In that moment, it was confirmed to Satine that the man she used to know, already a different person from the Padawan she fell in love with, was gone. The war, the collapse of the Republic, the exile had shaped him into something entirely different, and she would never be able to change it. Nor would it be right of her to do so.

The main purpose of her trip had been making sure he was alive, and now that she had an answer, she would finally be at peace.

She had come to know his heart as well, hence her decision to leave, if she wanted to save hers before it turned into stone.

She saw him fretting over bed covers and bedrolls. Clearly, his sense of hospitality hadn't been affected.

But she realized she wouldn't stand another hour around him in that state. He was empty, unresponsive, nothing was left of him other than his Force presence. It was so painful. Satine would cherish her memories, but wouldn't accept any more sufferance afresh: pulling through the recent years had tested her, too.

Her decision final, she opened the door, rucksack back on her shoulders.

When Ben realized what was happening, she already had one foot out the door.

He blinked, dumbfounded.

"Wait, where are you going?"

She paused a moment, looking at him, a wave of sadness clouding her eyes.

"It was good to see you. I hope that whatever it is you're doing, will work out"

Sad but sincere.

"There's no need to..."

"I respect your choice, Obi-Wan. Please, respect mine"

She explained with unmovable poignancy.

"B-but, it's dark and cold and it's full of Womp rats and Tusken Raiders! Can't you at least wait until sunrise?" he stuttered, suddenly feeling awful.

"I know you have been through a lot. I have too, Obi-Wan, so don't ask of me to suffer any further. This, I cannot give you"

"Satine..." he outstretched an arm at her, subconsciously trying to stop her, but it was too late. The door slammed shut behind her back.

She was gone. She was __gone__. For real. As quickly as she had appeared.

Ben fell to his knees, holding his head in his hands, heartbroken.

What had he done? Why, why did he always have to be so insensitive?

Striving to protect her, he had lost her altogether.

Well, maybe it was better this way. She had a tent, after all, she would be fine.

"Fine, yes, she'll be __fine__...better off than with crazy old Ben for sure" he nervously paced inside the hut, more tormented by the minute.

He shook his head "Who are you trying to fool, Kenobi?"

A howling-growling succession of yells signaled to Ben the passage of Tusken Raiders. They were clearly in the hut's proximity.

In the span of five seconds, Ben was out the door, chasing after Satine. In his haste, he didn't even fetch his lightsaber.

He ran into the thick darkness of the night, advancing in the desolate, unpredictable desert, Satine nowhere to be sensed.

"SATINE!" he yelled.


	3. Trials

**Searching for the unbearable Duchess, exhausted Ben finds himself in a canyon. Confrontation with Tusken Raiders ensues...**

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Tatooine, with its binary stars, had two middays: this made the desert planet a burning hell.

Ben himself was a delirious, hot mess. He had spent the last fifteen hours ceaselessly marching in the sand, with no sleep, no water and no guarantee he had taken the right direction.

The search was consumptive, testing his body and mind. His throat was parched, his eyes alternating focus between the blurry horizon line and the hazard-riddled sand his feet were sinking into.

"No lightsaber...could you get more dysfunctional than this, Kenobi?" he was talking to himself, like he had done for the past year and a half.

Being a Jedi, Ben was taught not to get attached to temporary existential stages, but when he allowed himself to make a comparison between his old life as a General and Master - where he interacted with tens of people every day and was sought after for his services - and his current predicament - of hermitage at the margins of society - he couldn't help but feel dismayed.

But now it didn't matter: Satine was nowhere to be found, and this worried him more each passing minute. He had no clue how much longer the search would continue; he knew that at a certain point he would have to retreat, if he wanted to stay alive and watch over Luke Skywalker, as he had committed to. To him, however, dying of dehydration-induced convulsions on a desolated dune while being bitten by poisonous sand crustaceans sounded like a more appealing alternative in that moment: he would never forgive himself if anything happened to that reckless duchess.

As more minutes passed, and the temperature rose even further, Ben was under the impression that his hood had fused with the top of his head. His face extremely hot, he wondered what would happen if he attempted peeling the hood off: probably he'd get a tonsure as a result.

His incessant walking led him to a canyon in an area rife with fluvial rocky formations, relics of when the planet had seen better times.

Where there were rocks on Tatooine, one could expect to find Tuskens, too, but Ben desperately needed some relief from the blazing sunrays. Once inside the ancient former river bed, he leaned against a rock, his exhaustion catching up with him.

"It was a brilliant idea, Your Highness, to land on this lovely Outer Rim jewel. Absolutely stupefying!" he spluttered, massaging the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb in an effort to ease his mounting headache.

A disturbance in the Force made him realize it had not been wise of him to speak so loudly: rifle-brandishing Sand People were quick to appear from rocky hideouts, soon circling him.

Oh, great. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

Ben scanned his surroundings, in search of something to use for personal defense, all the while vaulting and jumping on top of higher rocks, attempting to get out of the Tuskens' reach.

As a response, they fired at him.

Ben nearly cursed when an old-fashioned lead bullet brushed his hood, whistling. Fatigued due to the thirst and drowsiness, he nonetheless reached a plateau on top of one of the sides of the canyon. He ran, seeking an escape route...when he took notice of a Tusken campsite a few feet below. He would have certainly steered clear of it had he not taken sight of a very singular object lying near their fireplace: Satine's rucksack.

From the shock, Ben stopped abruptly, something which gave the edge to his pursuers, who were at his back in an instant, assaulting him.

Ben quickly reacted, kicking an assailant in the shins and snatching a club from his grip. Jumping on a slightly elevated, flat rock, he twirled the newly acquired weapon above his head to scare them off. He knew showing meekness wouldn't be key: the more one surrendered, the more Sand People tended to rage on their victims.

Undeterred, the Tuskens joined him on his rock, one after another, attempting to knock him out with canes, spears and other rudimentary weapons. Dodging their blows Ben didn't realize he was getting dangerously close to the rim of the flat rock they were standing on; and when he did, it was too late: a Tusken Raider pushed him down, right into a shallow crevice in the side of the cliff below.

Caught by surprise, incredulous at how incompetent he had become, Ben didn't even attempt Force-cushioning the fall. His back slammed on the hard stone, his bones creaking.

"Ouch...what manners..." he hissed through gritted teeth as a chorus of triumphant growls rose above his head.

The pain was so intense he had a hard time keeping his eyes open, however he still distinctly saw a Raider readying his rifle to finish him off. He needed a plan, and quickly.

"All right, at the count of three, I'll spring back to my feet and make that large boulder roll with the Force to create a diversion" he told himself.

"One, two, th-...!"

Ben never got the chance to put his plan in motion, because right in that moment a darting, savage-looking figure hurled itself against his assailants, throwing rocks and swinging a bat left, right and center.

Ben opened his eyes wide, having a hard time believing what his senses told him: the figure was Satine Kryze herself!

"Get out of there, Kenobi!" she yelled between a kick and a hit. Ben needed not be told twice: he hurriedly climbed out of the crevice, joining the fight.

Now the Tuskens were focusing all their strengths and resources on Satine, who didn't show signs of wanting to cave in. Although adhering to a disarmament-oriented way of governing, one must not forget that she was a true-blooded Mandalorian. The Sand People blocked her as she squirmed, trying to resist them. Fear clouding his judgment, Ben Force-pushed them apart, sending them clashing against the rocks, rushing at her side.

"Satine! Are you all right?"

She was flushed and bore a wild expression "These unlikable local dwellers have deep ingrained superstitious beliefs. They captured me, and brought me to their encampment. While tied-up, I realized I had a lighter in my pocket, so when the women saw me start a fire apparently out of nowhere they escaped yelling in all directions. Obi, use the Force, you'll scare them away!"

"Oh dear, you really do sound like the perfectly informed Tatooine vacationer..."

"And you really do sound like the perfectly cynical Jedi dissident, my dear" she snapped back.

This moment of lightheartedness cost them their temporary advantage: the Tuskens were at their backs, ready to strike with a vengeance. The reaction time reduced to a minimum, Ben threw himself in a hand-to-hand combat before they had a chance to touch the Duchess. At one point, he grabbed a Tusken's goggles, trying to undo his mask, while using his body to fend the other opponents off.

His back exposed, his hands busy, Ben wasn't able to get out of the way when a Raider launched a spear at his back.

Once again, it was Satine who averted tragedy: she deviated the weapon's trajectory with a punch, saving his life. This resulted in the Raider attacking her. As she furiously jiggled to break free, her opponent unsheathed another spear, successfully transfixing her.

Ben turned his head just in time to see the lance break through her flesh. He felt her release of pain through the Force, heard her frustrated, desperate gasp.

"NO!" he screamed as she fell to the ground, the Sand People raging on her body.

Enough. It was enough. No more putting up with this nonsense. His Jedi spirit rushing back at him, Ben remorselessly snatched a rifle from a Tusken's belt, sending the owner flying up in the air. He fired a few shots here and there to work his way through the Sand People, using the Force to push them aside. Keeping Satine's words in mind, he realized he needed to generate an awe-inducing reaction if he wanted to get rid of them. He eyed a large boulder on top of a rocky formation, while dodging bullets. Perfect. That would be perfect. Concentrating at the maximum of his abilities, Ben levitated the boulder and all the surrounding pebbles high above their heads, manoeuvring it so that it would cover one of the suns, casting a shadow on the ground. He let the Force guide him through, the connection he found with it at its purest form ever since starting his exile. Vader, Mustafar, his failures, nothing interfered with him now. Only light. Ben barely perceived the scared growls of the Tusken Raiders as he filled himself with the Force, closing his eyes to let himself be embraced by it.

When he opened them, the Sand People had retreated. With a huff, he released the boulder, which fell in the canyon with a loud smashing sound. That procedure had cost him energy, but Ben did not care: he ran, kneeling at Satine's side, angst constricting his chest. She was face down on the ground, so he rolled her over, lifting her and cradling her in his arms. She was limp, ashen, some blood trailing from her nose, but she had survived worst situations. Surely, she wouldn't kick the bucket, would she?

"Satine, no...no"

She moaned in pain, prompting him to release a sigh of relief. The spear, although snapped, was still in her flesh, piercing her right pectoral, about two feet in length and an inch wide. Ben touched the blood-soaked fabric of her shirt with his fingers, then stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. He could distinctly feel her pain, but as much as he ached to attempt Force-healing her, he knew the foreign object would have to be removed first.

Satine batted her lashes, twitching, her eyes still closed. In her unconsciousness, she rested her head against his shoulder, eliciting protective urges from his side.

"I'll bring you home, Satine. Hold on" he stood up, carrying her. Being a tall woman, she wasn't exactly lightweight, and the road ahead was long and hot, but to Ben, it didn't matter.


	4. Old wounds and new ones

**Satine wakes up in the hut; Ben is anxious to remove the spear.**

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Satine woke up in a cozy place.

Gradually, she opened her bleary eyes, only to realize that it was night, dim candlelight lightening the otherwise dark environment. She was lying on...a sort of creek in the wall? The mattress under her body was comfortable enough, though, so was the furry blanket on top of her. It was strange, but she felt safe. That was good, at least, because she was definitely in pain. Oh, dear Mandalore, why was she aching so much? Perhaps moving on her side would make things better.

As she struggled to roll on her side, Satine noticed something heavy and long hindering her movements...a spear, poking out of her chest. All her memories rushing back at her, Satine gaped, the weight of the spear lacerating her flesh even further.

"AAARGH!" she screamed.

"Satine!" seemingly out of nowhere, Ben came rushing at her side. He was ruffled, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, pestle and mortar in hand. He turned her back to her supine position.

Amid her pain, the first thing she distinctly made out was Ben's worried expression, so much more human than the empty one she had last seen. From the incredulity, she quit screaming.

"Ben..." she murmured.

"How are you? Satine I...am so __sorry__ " his admission almost cost him a lung.

"We are..."

"...in my hut, yes. You were injured in the canyon so __please__ , before leaving, let me take care of you"

He approached her, sitting on the side of his - now her - bed. Satine eyed him curiously. He looked seriously troubled, probably blaming himself for what had happened. She suddenly realized her rash decision of leaving in the middle of the night had been a childish, stupid idea.

"I am sorry to have disrupted your night in such a manner" she admitted.

Ben shook his head, his thoughts largely an enigma. Before he clammed up completely, Satine decided to change subject.

"What are you doing?" she asked, motioning to the pestle and mortar.

"Oh, this. I'm preparing a healing paste from an old Jedi recipe. Bant taught me all about it...now she's one with the Force" his voice cracked as he finished his sentence, his eyes becoming glassy again. Satine perked her head up, sensing his repressed grief. Looking around herself she suddenly got a glimpse into his everyday reality. How hard it must have been, to spend his days in solitude after the tragedies that had shaken his life, his teachings his only companions.

"It will work wonders" Ben continued, attempting to smile "but first..." he became flushed "... _ _this__ has to go" he pointed at the spear poking from her flesh, clearly intimidated by it.

Satine gulped. It really did hurt, and part of it had pierced her breast tissue, but she knew that if it stayed in, it would surefire get infected.

"Reminds me of the old times" Satine reminisced, referring to their year on the run, nearly two decades earlier.

Ben stiffly nodded, his focus on her wound.

Being miles away from any medical center, and being two fugitives, Ben was the only person capable of extracting the spear. Ben never assumed he would have to take care of another being he held dear after Order 66. He had always failed saving the people in his life, why should it be any different now? This being said, he was visibly hesitant, but Satine had sincere faith in him, and she would let him know.

As he timidly palpated the affected area, Satine clasped her hand around his, searching his eyes with hers.

"Ben"

Hearing the endearing nickname, he looked back at her.

"Just do it"

Those words carried more meaning than they let on. It was as if Satine had switched the "brooding button" off. It was time.

Ben began fumbling with the buttons of her shirt, trying to find a way to uncover her chest as modestly as possible. Easier said than done.

"Satine, the shirt..."

"Rip it" reading his mind, she put an abrupt end to his temporizing.

Sweating, Ben tore the fabric apart, blushing hard as he saw himself forced to remove it altogether, uncovering the skin of her torso, leaving her in her lacy bra. At that point, he wavered, but her wincing prompted him to proceed by cutting her right bra strap, since moving her arm to lower it would have caused her too much pain. Satine was panting, she nodded as their eyes met fleetingly. He continued by brushing a tincture over the whole affected zone, then paused, like a rocket ready to take off.

Sensing her mounting anxiety, while firmly grabbing the spear with a hand, he covered her eyes with the other. He was surprised when she moved it away.

"No" she said bravely, her voice shaking slightly nonetheless.

Ben swallowed hard, again. Truth be told, he himself would have appreciated someone covering his eyes.

"This will hurt, Satine" his voice quivered.

She grabbed his shoulder with her left hand, holding onto it.

"I am ready"

He was dead scared, but she trusted him. She sure did, and she made sure her eyes conveyed this message to him as their gazes met once more.

With one single, hard pull, Ben removed the spear, her pained, glass-shattering shriek joining his gasp, as their presences burst and fused in the Force.

Her fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulder, but soon thereafter, as Ben attempted to stop the blood from gushing out of her wound, she passed out from the pain.

"No, no, no...come on Duchess, wake up" Ben prodded her gently through the Force. As soon as the foreign object was gone, he concentrated his energies on Force-healing, trying to alleviate her pain and inflammation, willing for the tissues to regenerate, for her body to be whole again. Ben had never excelled at it, and he was really, really tired himself, having gone from crossing the desert on foot to aiding Satine without pause, but he made an effort to make her better nonetheless. When he finished, he was at the end of his rope, but the ministrations Satine required were far from over.

As the woman slowly regained her senses, she noticed Ben dabbing the Jedi healing paste at her wound, dark circles under his eyes. Despite their battered appearances, relief hovered all around: after the tension had reached its peak, everything was calmer. The atmosphere in the hut was soothing, now that the spear was gone, extracted from Satine's chest and - metaphorically - from Ben's heart.

Satine, now able to concentrate more and more, set her eyes on Ben. His dedicated attention and the gentleness of his fingers brought about a wave of deep affection towards him. She felt a warm, tingling sensation take over her as he cleansed her wound.

"Obi-Wan"

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

"You look terrible. A real wreck"

"Ow" he seemed slightly mortified, clearly not expecting such a remark in that moment "Excuse me, Duchess, if my appearance is not of your liking. Unfortunately, caviar hydrating body lotion is a bit hard to come by in these dusty wastelands"

She chuckled a bit.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just wanted to say that you should get some rest. You are definitely sleep-deprived" her voice was caring now.

"I will, after I patch you up" he replied, standing up to fetch a spool of gauze.

When he returned, moving the blanket aside to get full access to her torso, he stopped abruptly, noticing that in the mayhem of the procedure, the cup of her bra had slipped downwards, exposing the upper half of her pink nipple. Ben turned as red as a chili pepper, begging that she wouldn't notice it. He didn't know what would be worse: leaving it as it was, pretending that nothing had happened, or placing the cup back on its original position. Both options foresaw visual and tactile stimuli he wasn't sure fell under the category "appropriate".

He scanned her body in search of other injuries. He found none, his eyes lingering on every curve and detail for longer than was reasonable admitting, instead. Eventually, as Satine stirred lightly, squeezing her eyes as a wave of pain coursed through her, he settled for covering her breast with the blanket, ashamed of his own thoughts. Was it bad to feel...desire when she was in such desperate conditions?

He sat back by her side, placing the clean bandages on the mattress. By then, she could barely keep her eyes open. She grabbed his wrist, running her thumb over it lightly. Ben stopped, looking at her.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan. You saved me" she whispered.

Moved by her action, Ben let go of some of the inhibitions that held him back, caressing her face with his free hand.

" _ _You__ saved me, Satine" he admitted tenderly "starting from the box you delivered, all the way to the Tusken attacks"

She smiled a bit, a mix of sweet and mischievous.

When he finished dressing her wound, it was late at night. He stood up, realizing he would have to sleep on the wicker bedroll on the ground. Force, his back wouldn't be happy. This and more for the ailing Duchess.

"Rest well, Duchess" he said softly, hoping that she wouldn't spike a fever. The next few hours would be crucial.

In that moment, realization hit Satine "Obi, where are you sleeping, if I am in your bed?" it was a hut, after all, not the Sundari Royal Palace.

Ben paused for a moment. He didn't want her to think he regarded her as a burden.

"Oh, ehrm...here of course, on this __wonderful__ bedroll!" he exclaimed a bit too cheerfully.

She didn't seem to buy his enthusiasm, but was too exhausted to initiate a debate for the time being.

As he lied on his side before blowing the last candle out, Ben observed her sleeping profile. She wasn't a mirage, she was absolutely real. Although wearing a tormented expression due to the discomfort she was in, her mere presence gave him peace.

Funny. As a Jedi, he was supposed to be at peace constantly, but he realized for the first time since arriving on Tatooine, that it had never been the case until now. This awareness fleetingly perturbed him, but grasping onto Satine's calming presence got the upper hand and he slipped in a long, restoring sleep.


	5. Seek and ye shall find

**Satine's story is unveiled.**

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The next day, when Ben woke up entangled in his own cloak, the suns were already high and blazing in the sky. He felt clammy and sluggish, as it is typical of someone who manages to get a decent night's sleep after a long time of unrest. Remembering everything all of a sudden, he turned his head towards his own bed, expecting to see the Duchess...only thing she wasn't there!

Yoda's pants! That woman really wanted to give him a heart attack. On his feet, wobbling slightly, he called to her.

"Satine! Where are you? Don't you think we've seen enough Tusken Raiders for the week?!"

Ben heard the refresher door creaking open and he had to remember to keep his jaw in place as he saw her silken-robe-clad silhouette limping in his direction, one hand clutching her chest. Since she had absent-mindedly (at least, he liked to think she had not done it "purposefully" for the time being) left the robe open, he could see that she had changed into a strapless bra and shorts. Apparently, recovering her rucksack from the Sand People campsite had been a good idea.

"A lady needs her beauty time" she announced theatrically.

Ben's besotted trance was over the moment he noticed her pained expression: he escorted her back to the bed, where they sat, side by side. At Satine's yelp, he placed a hand on her right pectoral, Force-healing her some more. Slowly, he felt her tension dissipate through the Force.

"It is relieving to see Your Highness is already on her feet"

"A Duchess can only be on her knees for so long"

She pressed a hand against her shoulder, grimacing.

"You should rest, Satine"

She leaned back on the mattress, still pale and exhausted from the blood loss. Ben knew it could have been much worse; at least her lung was unaffected. She was not out of the woods yet, though: considering how filthy that Tusken spear was, not developing an infection would be nothing short of a miracle. He'd better get down to work. He stood up, going to fetch pestle and mortar.

"Nettle, St John's Wort and a diluted drop of Tatooine rattlesnake poison. All macerated together..." he illustrated the passages of the preparation "...make for a great anti-septic"

"I never took you for the pharmacist type" Satine teased him.

"In exile, one makes the most of whatever the day's got to offer. I can no longer be surprised, but still, I never thought I would see __you__ bring diplomacy to yesterday's levels" he chuckled.

"If the General peacekeeper says so" Satine shrugged, but soon regretted bringing the subject of his old life up, for his eyes clouded with sadness.

Realizing it wasn't time to explore __that topic__ just yet, she changed subject.

"Am I hindering your daytime activities?" she asked pompously.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are you supposed to be elsewhere?"

"Thanks to an impromptu display of Mandalorian generosity, venturing outside won't be necessary for a while" he winked, gesturing towards the goods box.

He unwrapped her bandages, now dirty with blood and exudate, hovering over her to apply the anti-septic ointment.

"I am only doing everyone a favor, by not showing up. Believe me" he listlessly murmured.

"Well, yes. You are not alone to hold this conviction, apparently" Satine sharply pointed out.

"What do you mean?" Ben inquired, the slightest bit alarmed.

"Mr __Owen Lars__ " she simply answered, a hand on her hip.

Ben widened his eyes. He was sincerely impressed. Either that, or his and Yoda's hideout plan for the twins was lame, which didn't sound as remote a possibility.

"Satine how do you..." he stuttered.

Satine looked at him.

"The story is complicated, but apparently, today we're not going anywhere" she briskly declared, pointing at her injury "Not that in this sea of dunes it would change much" she remarked, before starting her story:

"After you rescued me from Maul, as you know, I cooperated with Bo-Katan for a while to try and win Mandalore back. I was hoping we would eventually find a compromise between our two factions but, well...I was wrong. It didn't take long before different Clan chieftains turned against me, so Bo offered her help, but I declined: if I wanted to give my family any chance at success, I knew I had to disassociate myself from my sister, at least temporarily. Before I realized it, I was a fugitive again. I managed to obtain political asylum on Alderaan, as per Senator Amidala's suggestion: it was her who referred me to Bail Organa, citing his numerous resources. The day I landed, Bail's wife Breha greeted me, and shortly thereafter I moved to the city of Belleau-a-Lir, in a protected diplomatic district, where I could possibly gather allies among the dissident ranks. It was there that I heard the rumors questioning the legitimacy of the Republic's latest moves: all roads led back to Palpatine's abuse of power. As you know, I was never given reason to trust the Chancellor myself, and since the Republic was occupying Mandalore, I set my mind on uncovering more about this story. I introduced the topic to Padmé, with whom I was corresponding, and although brief, her messages were always worrisome. Something was definitely off, I could tell, something that went beyond the public sphere. She mentioned her growing lack of faith in the Senate multiple times, but we could never bring anything concrete into focus as she didn't have the energy to. She considered resigning her post and moving back on Naboo to accommodate a "big change" in her life, then shrugged the idea off, laughing. She was so fatigued and perturbed, I felt compelled to help her, so I promised I would do my best to shed light on the Senate's machinations, but I never got the chance to because...alas, not even a week after my arrival on Alderaan, the Republic collapsed, so did my remaining hopes" she paused, trying to weigh-in Ben's emotions. He was apparently unshaken, but had turned waxen.

Satine bit her lip "When I woke up that day, the galaxy as we knew it was gone. In hindsight, we should have seen it coming, but still...Padmé's passing was a shock, and...oh, Obi-Wan" her words choked in her throat as he closed his eyes, covering his face with a hand for the briefest moment, looking as if he was about to crack. She took his hand in hers, but he quickly got up, once again choosing to downright ignore the reality.

"You must be thirsty. Wait" he whispered, whisking away.

Satine sighed. No luck.

When he returned, with two clay cups, she was ready to continue her story. He could escape all he wanted, this didn't mean she would not let him know just how much she had suffered for __him.__

"Belleau-au-Lir was everything you would hope a city to be: beautiful, stimulating, rich in art and history, safe, progressive...but for the following days, I would go out, and all that I could...see, hear, smell, __sense__ was grief" she said poignantly, her wound hurting a bit more.

Ben perked his head.

"The details of the coup could never emerge quickly enough. I arrived to the point when I thought that knowing you dead was better than not knowing" her voice hardened. Ben sat back on the bed.

"Those days were a whirlwind of confusion. Bureaucratic adjustments, commemorative parades for the fallen ones, dissidents leaving and new ones landing, the arrival of the Imperial troops...an endless nightmare. Finally, the Ten Most Wanted list was published. When I saw your insolent face on it I could finally breathe again...Obi-Wan, what's in this water?!" she looked inside her cup, filled with a yellowish liquid.

"Turmeric. It will soothe your inflammation" he replied, nodding encouragingly.

Satine locked eyes with him, a funny smirk on her face "My, my, this herbalist turn is serious. So resourceful, Ben"

"You will be surprised, my dear" he winked suggestively "but now, please, continue"

"Right...so, the galaxy was collapsing, bad news from Mandalore kept arriving and I could barely stay afloat, but at least you were alive. Since Bail personally knew you, I comm-linked him several times throughout the following weeks, asking for news, updates...anything, really. I told him we were...good friends. I confess that the possibility that Organa might have granted you refuge somehow, just like he had to myself, brushed my mind on more than one occasion. We were both close to Padmé, after all. However, no matter how much or how often I insisted, no matter how cunningly, how pitifully or how authoritatively I asked, he always denied knowing anything about your whereabouts. He even went as far as suggesting that probably you were already dead, lost among the growing piles of unidentified bodies across the galaxy. It sure did not help my anxiety: never in my life had I ever found falling asleep at night so difficult. Dismayed, I poured all of myself into aiding previously neutral, occupied or enslaved worlds. I left Alderaan on a few occasions, on undercover relief diplomatic missions, a work made harder by the obscure dynamics of the rise of the Empire, which remained shrouded in a cloud of mystery. At the same time, I never gave up on you. While I traveled, as irrational as it may seem, I clung onto the thin hope that I would find a clue leading me to you, or to the truth, or both. It wasn't hard to conceive, to me, that the two had to be intertwined. The more time passed, the less everything made sense. As the days turned into weeks and then into months, it became progressively unbearable to accept this obstinate __silence__ as it was, so imagine my elation when I finally was convoked to Bail and Breha's palace in Aldera for an update on the Mandalorian front, more than a year after my arrival on Alderaan. I readied myself to grill Bail for more information, but when I stepped inside the palace, an unexpected sight welcomed me: a little brown-haired girl, clad in royal tunics, toddling around, followed by a retinue of nannies. I asked Bail about her, who confirmed it was his daughter, Leia, who had just learned to walk"

Satine paused for a moment, taking in Ben's unreadable expression. At the mention of the girl, she saw the grip on his knee tighten a bit.

"I must confess I was slightly taken aback by this statement, for Breha had neither looked pregnant nor postpartum when I met her one year earlier, and, as far as I knew, Bail was not polygamous. However, when the reports from Mandalore got rolling, between the occupation of Sundari and the bounties on Korkie's head, thoughts of the Organa daughter went on the back burner. That is, until princess Leia walked in, outstretching her chubby arms at her father. Bail picked her up and introduced her to me, while I had the hardest time controlling my facial expressions, as not to let any shock transpire. She looked __nothing__ like her parents. Now, you may wonder..." she proceeded, glancing at Ben, who looked more and more uncomfortable.

"...why was I getting so invested in snooping on Bail's private life? Well. As a general rule, I would have minded my own business, only thing, this wasn't __Bail__ 'sbusiness. The Empire was at stake, so were people's lives. And sorry if it sounds pretentious, but I realized it definitely wasn't Bail's business when Leia flashed that __smile__ at me. So unmistakably like your Anakin's. I observed her more closely, and even in her baby face, I could see Padmé. In that moment, the shapeless blob that was my understanding of things until that moment became a neater picture, as I connected the dots. Padmé's mention of a "big change" about to rock her life during our last conversations. Her sheer tiredness and tension. Her closeness to Bail. The Jedi being the father..."

"Satine, did you realize..." Ben spoke, a note of desperation in his voice.

"How could I __not__ , Ben? How could I not, after having gone through the same dynamics as theirs?" her expression said it all.

Ben hunched his back, darkening.

"This theory sounded foolish, but it made perfect sense. I knew letting Bail in on my suspicions would have meant losing his support and trust, and I couldn't afford that. I had to act smartly if I wanted to get answers. So I asked him about you, again...and then, seeing you were close to your former apprentice, I asked him about Skywalker. At the mention of that name, the slightest hint of panic flashed through Bail's eyes, before he worked his way out of the conversation, unsurprisingly. Under different circumstances, I would have felt overwhelmed by the difficulty of unraveling such an intricate maze, but this once it was different. For the first time in over a year I was on the right track, I was ready to go through fire and water to get to the bottom of it all. After Bail left me in my quarters, where I would spend the night, I headed out. I was toying with the dangerous idea of sneaking in Bail's office, to rummage through his data-pads...when I stepped into this astromech droid. Skywalker's astromech droid, which I had seen around Padmé as well, once or twice. I called it, it even responded to its name, R2-D2. Was very cooperative, very bright, if such a word can be used for a droid, immediately handing a copy of its memory disk over to me when I said I wanted to help you and Anakin, explaining you were in grave danger. Frustratingly, much of the data for the Clone Wars period had been erased, so I had to make do with what was left from previous years. Here I must tell you that, R2 being Anakin's droid, I was looking for clues that would lead me to him; I knew that finding your apprentice would lead me to you, as a consequence. I spent the whole night awake in my darkened room examining the disk and by dawn, I had a lead: Anakin's family on Tatooine. There was a registration dating to 22 BBY of Anakin, and Padmé, visiting a sort of desert homestead, coordinates included. Recalling what you had told me about the young man's past, I decided to give the Outer Rim planet a try. However, not before going and making sure Korkie stayed out of trouble on Draboon. When, two months later, I was scheduled to return to Belleau-au-Lir, I boarded on my ship, only thing I never touched down on Alderaan. I came here instead"

Ben was speechless, cold sweat beading his forehead. He couldn't believe any of it.

"Finding the mysterious relatives of Anakin Skywalker took its time. I mean, finding them wasn't hard, since I had the exact coordinates, __reaching__ them was. I parked the ship in the desert off the confines of Anchorhead, getting ready for a long, lonely trek. I must confess that I spent more time than anticipated waiting in the shadows of different small settlements for the right occasion to catch a transport to another city. Life is hard in this lawless place...but I guess you need not be told anything about it" she said sympathetically. Ben could only weakly nod, still too astonished to reply.

"Finally, after six gruesome weeks, I reached the Lars moisture farm on an eopie I managed to barter in Bestine. I admit that, when I rang at the door, I was mentally prepared for everything, except for what actually happened. A woman in coveralls opened, a crying toddler tugging at her leg. I introduced myself vaguely, saying I was looking for Anakin, since we used to "work together" and I was worried about him. At that, a large man showed up, rather unceremoniously dismissing me. I begged them not to shut me out, to no avail, so I told them that if they didn't want to help me, they could at least consider helping Anakin's Master, who surely worried about him. At the mention of your name, Owen __exploded__. He was red-faced, swearing, he even cursed at you. I said, wait a minute. Then you do know Kenobi? The following minutes were hard, but I refused to leave their doorstep. I menaced to dispatch Mandalorian super commandos if they didn't cooperate...oh, don't look at me like this. They know nothing of my pacifism, and, with certain people, it's better this way. Owen and his wife were putting up such a show that the young boy became even more upset, and he even levitated a few pebbles off the ground. It would've escaped my notice, had I not spent enough time around the Jedi. The boy looked about Leia's age. Could it possibly be...? Eventually, Owen caved in, and told me that I would find you here in this __lovely__ hut. I couldn't believe it!"

"Neither can I..." Ben was seriously shocked. Was it really so easy to track him? Or uncover the galaxy's secrets? Sure, Satine was a brilliant woman, but still...what did this mean for the safety of the Skywalker twins?

After the long story, silence had fallen in the room. Ben stood up, visibly shaken, disappearing in the kitchen. It would take him a while to process everything.

Satine was contemplating the stone ceiling above the bed, deep in thought.

When Ben reemerged with two bowls of food, he seemed vaguely calmer, his best Jedi expression on. He sat at her bedside, deciding to wade through difficult waters.

"Your tenacity never ceases to amaze me, Satine. I can't believe what you went through to get here"

"I never had it easy, Ben. Neither have you"

"True, but...what do you get out of it? You will not be able to follow Mandalore's affairs, nor make a difference from here"

"Maybe not from here. Elsewhere, perhaps, yes. Obi-Wan, I know giving up is not like you at all. This time, we - you - lost everything, but I believe you know, deep down, that it is not over for you. There is so much we can still achieve..."

Ben lowered his eyes "As you might imagine, I am here for an important reason"

Satine looked at her bowl. The next days would be decisive, regarding their future.

Ben eyed her nearly untouched food, something like concern painted on his face.

"Eat, please. You must restore your strength"


	6. Drops of water in a barren land

**As the days go by, Ben and Satine learn what it means to coexist in the desert**

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Cognition of time seemed to fade as Satine slowly healed. The movements were gentle in the hut, the sounds muffled, as days passed between meditation sessions and wound-dressing changes, with occasional attempts at heavyhearted conversations. Nothing relevant was said, though, it was as if neither of them could bring themselves to talk openly about their pasts, or their futures, for the matter. No, their life was merely a matter of living in the present, a first for the two of them, an inconceivable luxury by their past lives' standards.

One morning, Ben realized a trip to the city could no longer be postponed, so, Satine having regained enough strength, he felt it would be safe enough to leave her.

"I am going to town to gather supplies" he announced, picking his backpack up "It may take a while" he said, putting his boots on. Truth be told, he was looking forward to spending some time alone. Satine sure wasn't an unpleasant guest, but months of solitude had made it hard on him to tolerate the constant presence of another person. That, and also the growing confusion that stemmed from her simply being there, his distraction, the temptations her attachment provided. Ben was utterly nonplussed by this new arrangement.

"I have one request for you, Ben" Satine chirped, still in his bed "can you bring me a bag of mulch, if you find one?"

He opened his eyes wide, bewildered. Out of all the requests he could have expected from the Duchess of Mandalore, __mulch__ was at the bottom of the list "Mulch? What is mulch supposed to be for in the middle of this wasteland?"

Satine flapped the small satin bag containing seeds, holding it by the drawstrings.

"For your flowers, __of course__ " she said as if it was the most natural explanation in the world.

" _ _Flowers__?! There's not enough water for gardening!"

"Nonsense" Satine dismissed his argumentation with mirth "haven't you ever heard of drip irrigation? Look at you, Obi-Wan. You really need some __color__ , and __life__ , in this hut"

"I don't have time to waste on frivolities" Ben shook his head, crossed

"Frivolities?! It is the bare necessities we're talking about! How do you even manage to meditate without a hint of living Force in this place? " Satine countered.

Defeated at his own game, with images of the Temple's Room of a Thousand Fountains flashing before his eyes, Ben left the hut, muttering under his breath.

Ben was gone for a total of five days, the majority of which were spent in deep meditation, or contemplation with the Force. After stopping to check on Luke, he decided to reach Mos Eisley via Bestine, where he shopped for necessities at the main street market and pricked his ears up for any noteworthy Imperial news. Now, spiritually cleansed, he was ready to face Satine, convinced that nothing in the galaxy could shake his focus anymore.

With this certainty in mind, Ben opened the door, his steel resolve shattering at his feet the moment he stepped inside. The house was unrecognizable. Improved, it sure was. Orderly, as for once things were not lying haphazardly all over the place. But different.

Seconds after this shock revelation Satine appeared, inflicting the finishing blow with her beauty.

"Ben! You're back!" she greeted him, sincerely happy to see him. She was definitely better, glowing, nearly. He shook himself out of his daze, smiling at her almost involuntarily.

"Satine you look splendi-...I mean, it is really pleasing to see you are better" he blushed.

He knew her presence shouldn't have made him feel so __warm__. He knew he was supposed to be stoic, and self-sufficient, but how could he?

He plopped the backpack on the ground, handing her a pair of brown bags "Erhm, I...got you these: topsoil, and loam, too. I, uh, didn't know if you would need it as well"

"That's fantastic, Ben! The flowers will cheer this place up, you will see..." she beamed.

 _"_ _ _You already have, Satine"__ Ben told himself despite his best efforts not to.

A few more days passed. New shoots had germinated from the recently planted seeds, just as new possibilities had sprouted for the pair of hut dwellers.

Ben and Satine were both aware that their arrangement couldn't go on indefinitely, but neither had stepped ahead with new proposals, abandoning themselves to a sort of "mental vacation" from the pressures they had been subjected all their lives. However, a break from hammering duty didn't equate to a break from grief, though mourning was made more bearable by each other's calming presence. Perhaps that was one of the main reasons why they weren't in a rush to define their next moves.

Ben was torn. Ever the gentleman, he had surrendered her his bed for good, while he pretended to be having the most restful of nights on his wicker bedroll. He had also considered ceding her the old bantha blanket, but had thought better of it, deeming it way too moth-eaten and oily for Satine. He, after all, didn't want to pass for a boor.

Time went by, but Ben never worked up the courage, nor the intention, to open himself up to her. He never talked about his past, save for fleeting moments, and always cryptically at that, effectively erecting a wall between the two of them, a wall Satine wasn't always eager to climb herself. They lived in a contradiction: desperately needing and searching one another, but, at the same time, obstinately shutting the other off.

Moreover, sexual tension was mounting exponentially without them even fully realizing it. They were mostly caring and considerate, but when communication problems frustrated them, they would pester each other until one of them walked out of the room, storming to the cellar, or outside (since the hut wasn't that large to begin with). After her injury healed completely and his ministrations were no longer needed, Ben wouldn't touch Satine, not even brush her with a feather. He was evasive and sarcastic, while Satine, not the best of communicators herself when it came to matters of the heart, responded by becoming cold and abrasive.

One day, after Satine announced her intention to check on the latest galactic happenings, they both wrapped themselves up in cloaks and headscarves and headed to Mos Eisley. During the journey, they slept huddled up one against the other, though wrapped in separate blankets, to retain more body heat. The contrasting ways they felt about it sure didn't fare well with their confused states of mind.

Once in Mos Eisley, they were surprised to find an overabundance of Gamorrean guards: word had it that Jabba was looking for a fugitive.

From the top of a flat roof above Mos Eisley's news station, sentinel Ben was keeping an eye on Satine, who, duly hooded, was attempting to sneak in. When a Gamorrean stopped her, asking for her credentials, Ben panicked, forsaking his own safety all at once and Force-flipping to the ground. Satine seemed peeved, but Ben had everything under control. Or at least, so he liked to think.

"What's the fanfare all about, gentleman?" Ben asked the guard, eliciting a poorly-repressed groan from Satine.

"Documents out, wermo" the guard replied, shoving a club in his face.

" _ _You don't need to see my documents. You already checked them__ " Ben mind-tricked him.

"I don't need to see your documents. I already checked them" the guard repeated stupidly.

Pleased with himself, Ben winked at Satine, who retained her skepticism nonetheless.

"Mi boska the documents of the woman" the guard growled threateningly.

Ben was about to mind-trick him again, when he realized doing so would be too much of a hazard: a small group of onlookers had gathered around them, hoping for some action. His hands became sweaty as Satine bit her lip, when he suddenly got an idea.

"Please, forgive __my wife__ , she forgot them at home. We can never bring our wallets along these days, with all the bandits roaming the streets!"

The guard seemed to buy it.

Satine nearly froze on the spot. Wife?!

To look more convincing, Ben even went as far as looping arms with her and kissing the back of her hand in public, something that, to him, was tantamount to having sex on a stage in front of Jabba's cortege. Satine was sure she would pass out any moment.

They reached Ben's hut early after sunrise, two days later. Tired, they treated themselves to a breakfast of spicy ahrisa, then crashed on the floor, one next to the other. Ben's last thoughts before falling asleep were of Anakin, who used to voice his appreciation of the dish quite often, as it reminded him of his mother. He regretted never taking the time to prepare it alongside him, in his quarters. It could have been a way to allow the boy to feel more at ease, to encourage him to open up to him...but now Ben was sleepy. Too sleepy...

 _ _He was inside the Jedi Temple, the ravaged bodies of dozens of younglings lying before his feet, the hell-like scenery accentuated by a red moon dominating the dark, starless sky. Obi-Wan could hardly breathe, with his lightsaber at hand he felt ridiculously powerless in the face of such a massacre.__

 _"_ _ _Master, why did__ ** _ _ **you**__** _ _let it happen?"__

 _ _Obi-Wan turned his head, the silhouette of his nine-year-old Padawan Anakin walking out of a cloud of smoke. The boy looked vulnerable, but his presence radiated coldness, as it always did.__

 _"_ _ _Anakin! You are alive! You are well! Come with me, Anakin" he heard himself say.__

 _ _The young boy grimaced, gesturing around the room.__

 _"_ _ _I can't. Why didn't you stop it?" Anakin now was beginning to cry.__

 _"_ _ _Anakin, I am sorry for my shortcomings. They are unforgivable. I couldn't save them, I couldn't stop it...but let me save you, Anakin. Come with me" he reached out to the boy, tears welling in his own eyes.__

 _"_ _ _NO! It is not fair!" the young one balked, as it was typical of him.__

 _"_ _ _Anakin, please!" he begged him, the temperature dropping even further.__

 _ _Anakin squatted, hugging his own legs, burying his face in his tunic. Then he stood up again. When Obi-Wan saw his eyes, he started. They were yellow, full of fear, anger and hate.__

 _"_ _ _Too late, Master"__

 _"_ _ _NOOO!" Obi-Wan yelled desperately.__

 _"_ _ _Look at your hands" Anakin ordered, his voice a raspy growl.__

 _ _Obi-Wan obliged. They were dirty with blood...the blood of the younglings. The blood of the Jedi, of the victims of the Empire.__

 _"_ _ _NOOOOOO!" he screamed again__

Ben abruptly woke up, panting heavily, realizing he had fallen on top of Satine's lap, who was shaking him. She looked scared, but tried not to let it transpire too much.

"Obi-Wan! What happened?"

He looked at her, utterly ashamed. His face felt wet. Touching his cheeks, it was confirmed to him that they were streaked with real tears.

"N-nothing...a Force-vision, I think"

"Ben..."

"It's __nothing__ " he stood up, quickly heading to the dungeon, leaving her behind.

Once in there, Ben leaned against the desk, feeling emptier than ever. What had he __done__?


	7. Ben's issue

**The title is pretty much self-explainatory. A glimpse into Ben's mind.**

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Ben had enough of it. It was preposterous, especially for a man his age, his vocation and, supposedly, his self-control.

He had always considered himself capable to resist and delay gratification, at times more proficient at it than a droid, to the point of missing out on so many occasions in life because of his cast-iron discipline.

The living Force had never been a strength of his, as Qui-Gon would helplessly point out...and this was precisely the reason why he couldn't explain the rationale behind the __force raising his pants__ every morning.

Yes. Ben Kenobi had awoken in such an embarrassing physiological state for two weeks in a row now. What was worse, he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. Relieve himself? No way: he wasn't alone, and his desert dwelling sure wasn't a manor. Do __her__ a favor as well after weeks of mounting tension? How could he even __conceive__ anything of the sort!? It had been __years__.

Moreover, he felt he wouldn't be caring for her well-being, if he gave in to his fleshly desires: he really didn't want her stuck with him, in a sea of Skywalker-themed troubles.

He was totally lost, so he mainly dodged Satine, initiating awkward half-conversations and rushing to take a __cold__ shower as often as the situation literally presented itself. He knew he couldn't go on like that much longer, so he sought guidance in the Force, too embarrassed to bring the subject up with Qui-Gon's Force ghost. He tried countless exercises, including a deep-breathing calming technique which ended up exciting him even further, evoking images of the Duchess' panting form heaving and twisting under his flushed body...not even fighting with Asajj Ventress had ever made him feel so __alive__.

Danger was within, the dark side tempting and alluring.

The Duchess of Mandalore, on her hand, wasn't making things any easier. Liberated from her duty and from a lifetime of death threats, Satine had rejuvenated: she wasn't a wrinkling, melodramatic shrew who spent her days composing mushy poetry and her nights monologuing with imaginary maids.

On the contrary, the Jedi hermit was convinced she had never been more beautiful her entire life: after twenty years of uninterrupted, consuming service to her own galactic sector, having realized she had some time for herself - albeit with all the glamour a sandy wasteland had to offer - had made her bloom: her skin was smooth, shiny, benefiting from the warm air; her hair, which used to be short and had lost all shape from years of styling it in intricate coiffures complete with wires, now graced her shoulders coming down in soft, golden waves. The weight of the headdress was lifted off her head, attributing renewed elasticity to her persona.

Moreover, the Duchess wasn't limiting herself to being outwardly attractive, she was a real temptress, in her own subtle way.

In the three months she had resided at Ben's, her appearance had been escalatingly provocative. From the desert woman in baggy clothes who had showed up at his doorstep the first day, she had transitioned to a sort of rebel "Calamity Jane" look to downright carrying herself in babydolls. She applied her lipstick, and when she wasn't walking around the house with her long, shiny legs, she was sporting a plunging neckline. Ben fantasized about her, and when he did, he had a hard time looking at her in the eye.

Aside from that, though, Satine mostly kept her professional, serious, at times intimidating demeanor, and this was, most likely, one of the reasons Ben found her so irresistible.

Seriously, it seemed to Ben that she was only ever wearing __lingerie__ these days. Well, not exactly, but that was what it appeared to him: a deprived, lonely Jedi who was convinced he would never be able to __feel__ again, after the rise of the Sith.

And it wasn't all. In the darkness of the night, while Ben lied on his wicker bedroll, having a troubles falling asleep, stealing occasional glances at her direction, he could, more often than not, __sense__ her feelings of desire, affection and frustration through the Force. In moments like those, he found it really hard not to get up and confront her, whatever __confronting__ meant, in this case.

Was he being rude downright ignoring her? Or would she think badly of him if he actually worked up the courage to do __something__? Her intentions weren't, after all, crystal clear.


	8. Snaking into your soul

**While Vader drowns in his hate and pain, Ben must deal with a scaly complication on Tatooine. Thankfully, Satine is there to help him (as best as she knows how ;)).**

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Young Vader woke up in his bacta tank, guarded by stone-like, red-caped Imperial guards . He was in his newly-built castle on Mustafar, a stronghold he had erected with the help of an ancient Sith ritual. The castle was a much-needed sanctuary where he could retreat to rest and heal, an incubator of hate, so that his regeneration could happen in accordance with the new rules of conduct he subscribed to.

He'd been dreaming. Dreaming of a time when the name "Vader" had never even brushed his ears, of way before he knew the fear associated with the love for his wife. Back when he was just an ambitious Padawan to his devout Master.

For the briefest moment, his bodily pain still numbed by the jelly-like substance of bacta, he expected to find himself in his bed at the Jedi Temple, perhaps welcomed by the familiar presence of Obi-Wan urging him to get on his feet.

However, after the machines pulled him out of the tank, and he attempted to move his legs and arms, he _remembered._ All there remained of his four limbs were stumps. Vader, armorless, took sight of his body for what it was, he took sight of the shriveled, useless skin; of the black iron-lung control box planted in his chest; of the invasive catheter exiting his once-manhood.

Alongside those physical losses, he was reminded of his relational ones. How had all of this happened? Vader's blood was boiling. He felt **rage**. It was unjust...why him...WHY? Anger...! It was...all...Obi-Wan's FAULT!

Vader's hate-filled yell made the floor tremble, the bacta tank explode and a nearby volcano erupt. Shards of glass stuck into in his frail skin, but to him, it didn't matter. In that moment, all he was visualizing were the many ways he wanted to kill Kenobi. Vader was convinced one painful death would not be enough of a punishment for his former, hypocrite Master. Oh, how he _hated_ him.

Strange things happen to those whose judgment is clouded by sheer hate. In Vader's case, reality began mixing with visions of his past life. He couldn't explain why, but he visualized a huge, black serpent swallowing Kenobi whole, its nefarious gastric acids and smooth digestive muscles poisoning him and strangling him at the same time. Oh, how he wished it to be _true_.

As the medical droids began assembling the suit around him, Darth Vader sneered, like a fool.

"You must suffer, Obi-Wan. I _will_ make you"

 _In the meantime, in the Jundland Wastes..._

Ben was readying himself for a routine check of the Lars homestead. Not owning a speeder, the round trip would take him no less than a couple of days. While he was filling his water flask, Satine intercepted him, hand on her hip.

"Obi-Wan, can you assure me that you will stay out of trouble?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You were screaming and sleepwalking again, last night" she was keeping a neutral facade, but a sigh escaped her mouth nonetheless.

Ben looked at her without talking, as if waiting for her to continue. He wouldn't give her a free hand.

"I'm worried you'll lose your way, if it happens while you're sleeping alone in the dark desert"

"Oh, don't worry Duchess. I have the Force by my side" he managed a weak smile.

Satine paused for a moment, biting her lip. She never pressed him to disclose anything against his will, but now that she had brought the subject up out of concern, she decided to test the waters to see if he would open up to her.

"What's on your mind?"

"Everything that's supposed to be on someone's mind before a walk through these _friendly_ dunes" Ben replied, willingly playing ignorant.

"Why are you having all these nightmares?" considering everything Ben had gone through, Satine was aware that her question could sound superfluous or even naive, but she was confident he would not misinterpret her intentions.

"No reason" was Ben's all-too-quick reply.

"Obi-Wan, I understand if you don't want to tell _me_ , but you have to at least confront it yourself! Stop denying the truth!"

"I must really go, now" Ben said with finality.

"Oh, leave it...reasoning with a mule would be more productive!"

Not standing to be around hunched headstrong Ben any longer, Satine went outside, wearing a pair of boots. She'd work on her new vegetable garden to take her mind off problems.

The Duchess could be on "vacation", but she never lost her propositive flair: one minute she was rearranging the hut's meager mobilia, the next she was devising new, shorter travel routes to reach Bestine on foot. Her unpredictability both terrified and relieved Ben, who could count on her surprising (or unsettling, depending on the circumstances) him every day. Surprise came with the very definition of Satine Kryze.

As of late, Satine had taken on the endeavor of creating a sort of mini "moisture farm" for themselves, so that Ben could emancipate himself from the dependence on bi-monthly trips to Mos Eisley.

"What for? It's not like there is much else to do, out here" Ben had pessimistically pointed out when he had first seen her grapple with crates, rubber tubes, mulch and foil.

"It is called _progress_ , my dear. Nothing sounds sweeter to my ears in this wasteland" she explained, her eyes two magnetic slits, while brandishing a sweet tuber. Satine watered the shoots by night and covered them with transpiring tarpaulin after the suns became too hot for the little plants to bear.

Although diligent in her vegetable garden care, the small plantation had yet to yield the desired results. Sure, crunchy green leafy salad and two small-sized sweet tubers accounted for a respectable beginning, but independence, as she had put it, wasn't achieved, not by a long shot.

After timidly bidding his farewell to Satine, Ben set out for Luke's home.

He wouldn't admit it in front of the Duchess, but while he lied on the sand in his sleeping bag, waiting to fall asleep at night, he would try and trace her silhouette by connecting the twinkling stars that shone above him.

Those nights in the open air reminded him of better times: the year they spent on the run together on Mandalore, his missions with Qui-Gon first and Anakin later on...and then, with memories of his Padawan, promptly came the nightmares, too.

That time, Ben remained in the proximity of the Lars household for longer than customary: he attempted establishing a Force-connection with young Luke for the first time since landing on Tatooine, realizing he couldn't ignore the toddler's sparks of frustration. Given his foster parents' understanding of Force-sensitivity, and the fact that he was approaching the "terrible twos", this came as no surprise to Ben.

Eventually, though, lack of water and too many sightings of Owen signaled to him that it was time to retreat, and so back home he headed.

When, after climbing a dune, Ben finally got sight of the hut, he wondered why Satine - he could sense no other presences nearby - had left the door open.

Stepping inside, he didn't question at first why she was on the floor, flat on her stomach, seemingly lying in wait behind the table: he had gotten so used to the Duchess' eccentricities, that that behavior seemed normal to him. However, after his ears registered a hissing noise coming from her throat, he realized a brief investigation was in order.

"Satine, what are you doing?"

"Ssh. Don't move!" she whispered, assuming more and more the air of a hunting feline.

Ben, all flushed from his desert trek, was confused. He didn't understand. Wishing to get a better view of the unbearable woman, he walked forward.

"What in the Force are you-"

"STOP!" Satine shrieked.

Too late. Right in that instant, Ben felt something cold and scaly slither up his leg, climb his calf all the way up to his thigh, wrapping itself around his muscles, sandwiched between fabric and flesh.

A snake.

Ben, never one to be disliked by animals to begin with, willed the creature not to bite him, initially set on maintaining his calm. This snake in particular, however, felt...hostile. Aggressive, almost, so much so that Ben could barely hold it back, as much as he concentrated. He was vaguely conscious of Satine's gabble in the background, while he assumed the expression of a constipated child.

"I hate to break it to you, but a snake just slithered up your leg!" she nearly shrieked.

"Oh, really? I had _no idea_!" Ben sarcastically exclaimed.

"So much for not listening to _me_! This creature must have snaked in while I entered the hut, after covering the vegetables...remarkable" she sounded almost pleased.

"That's the word, indeed. _Remarkable_!"

"You're in no position to be naughty with me, right now" Satine smirked.

Ben was truly puzzled. Why wasn't this snake letting go of him? How could so much dark energy be stored inside such a little creature? Feeling more and more helpless, Ben moaned indistinctly.

Satine, initially pompously stiff, took sight of him, and was moved by a wave of compassion. She shook her head, walking closer to him.

"It won't move" Ben lamented, fear threatening to destabilize him. Why did all of this felt so abnormal?

Ben could only witness as Satine unbuckled his belt, getting rid of a few of his layers, undecided if to be more scared of the reptile, or of what she was doing.

She knelt right in front of him, her face inches from his crotch. She unzipped his fly, slipping an elegant hand inside his trousers after having lowered them a bit.

 _Oh Force_.

She was touching him. She was _touching him_.

So was the snake. Ben was sure his knees would have buckled, had it not been for it.

"If I grab its tail it won't be able to move"

"Since when have you become an expert on snakes..."

"I am quite handy with these slippery creatures, my dearest"

Ben rolled his eyes.

"Try and use the Force" she urged him, her arm sliding against his leg, causing the hairs to stand up.

"I can't do any better than this. I am such an incompetent, useless..."

"You are too hard on yourself" Satine cut him short, as she searched for the tail of the snake with her hand.

"This is hardly being too hard" Ben sighed dejectedly.

"I didn't say being _hard_ is a bad thing. Just not on yourself" she seductively hinted while she had him literally in her grip. She looked up at him, attempting to gauge his reaction. Ben swallowed.

The snake moved a bit, trying to escape the woman's grip.

"Ow, ow, this is really a sneaky slippy...oh, I got it! _I got it_!" Satine exclaimed with glee, pulling the sandy-colored bottom half of the serpent out of Ben's trousers.

"Now, the head...Ben, will you please hold my hair back?" a lock of blonde hair was in her face, restricting her field of vision.

Ben obliged, too shocked to do otherwise. The snake was tickling his inner thigh and Satine's gorgeous lips were even closer to his striped underwear, but not due to her having moved closer: _something else_ had in her stead, and he couldn't do anything about _it_.

"So _long_ and _heavy_...ah!" she exclaimed.

Ben nearly choked on his own saliva.

A shoulder strap slipped down from Satine's nearly transparent, airy dress, exposing the soft curve of her shoulder.

Red-faced, Ben's eyes lingered on her bare skin, in spite of his best intentions, until he felt the snake's tongue tickle his leg. At that, he tilted his head backwards, a moan escaping his lips.

Satine was panting herself, really focused.

"Almost...almost..."

"Kenobi! What were you doing, lurking around my property...HOLY BANTHA!"

Apparently, bad luck was an endless pit for Ben Kenobi. The voice belonged to none other than Owen Lars, who was at his doorstep, practically inside.

Nobody, after all, had bothered closing the door, in front of which Ben was standing with his lowered pants, Satine kneeling in front of him, covering his crotch from view, his hand holding her head (hair) in place.

Ben realized it must've looked really, _really_ bad.

Ben got sight of Owen's expression, his jowls trembling like those of an old rhino, and wanted to disappear right there and then.

From the surprise, Satine lost her balance, her face clashing against his bulging underwear. Ben, feeling the snake brush its teeth against his thigh, gasped, falling backwards while summoning his lightsaber, Satine collapsing on top of him.

Now or never: with a swift move of the blue blade, Ben cut the snake's life short, decapitating it, burning his trousers in the process. He had attempted sparing the creature's life, but it wasn't to be, apparently.

After blinking twice, Ben looked up at Owen.

"Owen" he began, dead snake in hand "would you like to join us for supper? There's a fresh catch"

Owen was shaking. He looked on the verge of losing his mind.

"You are completely crazy"

Moments later, Owen had mounted on his speeder, getting out of the way as fast as he could. Ben snorted helplessly. All this way for nothing. Well, at least he wouldn't have to deal with him tonight.

Ben sighed, realizing he had gotten a headache. He shifted his focus to Satine, beautifully trapped between his legs. She had not objected his having "brutally" killed the snake, perhaps too distracted by their compromising position.

Now out of danger, Ben felt gratitude towards her, noticing she looked adorably flushed at the same time.

"Your Highness. It looks like nobody else will join us for dinner" he stood up, taking her hand in his to help her up.

"The house specialty tonight is roasted snake"

 _One hour later..._

"If I had known things would come to this, I would have quit, to become Dex's apprentice"

It was sunset. Ben and Satine had moved the dining table outside and were having a "celebratory" dinner with a few lightened candles, the wind blowing on their flames as well as on Satine's flowing dress. Roasted snake and homegrown salad were served.

"I would have said "dear Master Qui-Gon, goodbye. I have found my way, and it's _greasier_ than you'd ever imagine!""

Satine chuckled, taking a sip from her cup. The atmosphere between them was more relaxed than it'd been in days.

"No breathtaking Jedi deeds?" she poked him.

"No" Ben said with conviction, closing his eyes.

"No Force-infused heroics?"

"No"

"Not even a frivolous life inside a Mandalorian castle as a royal consort without obligations?" she raised an eyebrow, amused.

Ben opened his eyes to look at her, smiling widely and a bit suggestively.

"Oh, even less so" he provoked her.

"If you cook everything as well as you cook snake, then your beloved Dex's Diner would have failed by now" Satine declared with mirth. Tatooine snake lived in the sand, hunted in the sand and tasted like sand.

"I gather Your Highness is enjoying her dinner"

"Tremendously" she replied, curling her wrist around her cup.

He smirked, looking at her in the eye. He noticed her lips, which had parted a bit, were slightly moist. But that was just a detail. Her whole...ensemble, body and soul, with Tatooine's sunset as background, was just too much for him. Way more than he deserved. Ben inhaled sharply. While at the mercy of the snake, he had considered the possibility of letting go, of stopping trying to interfere with the Force to allow the slithering creature to claim what it wanted: his own life. However, Ben had realized, valuing his existence for the first time ever since relocating on the Outer Rim planet, that he couldn't. Something had held him back, and this something was _Satine_.

"Normal middle class life. With a yearly leave, savings in the bank and a family of my own" he declared.

" _Normal_? Nothing's ever uneventful when you're around, my dear. Even in a setting as apparently ordinary as Dex's, you would have found ways to spice your life up...you would've enraged the mob or something" Satine laughed.

"You're right...I always mess things up" Ben said, getting pensive.

"Oh, Ben. Some things are just beyond our control. I don't think it's true, but even if it were, rest assured, you're not the only one" she sighed.

Ben directed his gaze at the dunes, his expression graver. He thought about the day's happenings, the snake's oddly familiar viciousness, the calm Satine infused him with despite his stubborn resistance, the past actions he regretted. In a rare moment of spontaneity, Ben spoke:

"I can't move on. I know I should but... _I can't_ ".

His head buried in his hands, his elbows on the table, it was disclosed to Satine just to what extent his past haunted him. He could be cryptic and not really talkative, but his body language spoke volumes about how he felt. Satine was overcome by the urge to hug him, but realized that wouldn't be the right moment to do so. Instead, she spoke, too:

"It's about _him_ , isn't it, Obi-Wan?"

Satine had posed it as a question, but, to Ben, it felt like anything but. Whom she was referring to with that " _him_ " was crystal clear.

He didn't answer, not directly at least, choosing to look at the horizon line, right in the direction where he knew Mustafar would be. He wondered where _he_ was. Not the dark version of him, Ben didn't care what Vader was up to in that moment, but the real him. The last of the suns was almost down: for the briefest moment, day and night, light and darkness, would meet. For a moment as long as that, Ben dared believing that not all hope was lost on Anakin Skywalker.


	9. Stormy Desert

_**"It's good to know you're alive, Ben"**_

 _ **That being said, she stood up, walking away from him.**_

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 ****This chapter contains graphic depictions of physical interaction. If this stuff is not your cup of tea, steer clear of it, thanks.****

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After a few more days of inconclusive bantering and getting on each other's nerves, Satine had voiced her decision: she would go make sure her spaceship was still there in the Jundland Wastes where she had parked it. Ben would accompany her, naturally.

 _Naturally_.

What did this mean? Was it the beginning of the end? Did it signify the Duchess realized she was at a stall, and, therefore, was considering leaving?

 _"_ _ _Congratulations, Ben. Your plan to "protect" her has worked wonders. What woman would stand your cynicism, after all?__ "

He really didn't know what to think, his usual passivity and negativity prevailing. She was an incredible woman, and he was...the lamest of creatures alive. Not smart, uninteresting, disproportionately dangerous. Rapidly aging and drowning in despair. Unpleasantly introverted, as dodgy as a lone bear. Or at least, _so he thought_. Stuck in a terrible situation, because of his own mistakes. No, he wouldn't doom her to his eternal damnation, even if sending her away would equate to destroying the last living bits of his heart.

The morning they were supposed to undertake the trek, however, a glitch welcomed them when the suns rose: the most turbulent of desert storms Tatooine had ever seen. Left with no choice but to stay at home, Ben and Satine secured themselves inside. Thankfully, the provisions they had would be enough for a few more days.

Hours later, the afternoon was carrying itself in the usual manner. Satine was reading in her short robe and chemise, looking angelic as usual, while Ben, having realized he couldn't disappear in his dungeon all day to avoid "distractions", was kneeling next to the table, furiously scribbling his Jedi memoirs down, hoping the scratching of his pen would be louder than the tempting voices in his head.

At one point, without any forewarning, the glacial Satine stood up, walking to him.

"I am tired of this, Ben" she sighed, playing with a loose strand of hair on her shoulder.

Ben perked up, alerted "Oh, you're tired, __yes__ , life here is tiresome"

"Aren't you?"

"Of Tatooine?"

"Of this game of hide and seek. You know how much I care for you. I wouldn't be here, if I did not. Ben, I __want__ you"

The way she said it made his heart jolt.

"Don't you?" she inquired.

"No, I really am fine!" Ben was all too quick to answer.

It didn't matter how abrasive, insensitive or ridiculous he got, she was undeterred. She walked closer, lowering herself at his eye-level, her gaze lingering on his face.

"Are you sure?"

"I...yes. YES, I am"

Ben didn't know why he was acting that way. What was he afraid of, exactly?

Satine walked even closer, sitting next to him as he exhaled nervously. She brushed her arm against his own, tunic-clad one, a motion which sent shivers down his spine. He was barely holding it together.

Without breaking eye contact, Satine parted his tunic slightly, slipping a hand inside and pressing it against his firm chest. His words could be lying, but his heart wouldn't. It was beating really fast, and it quickened against her touch.

Ben widened his eyes, gasping. It was as if she had uncovered all of his deepest secrets. He nearly passed out when she leaned closer to him to whisper something inside his ear, her hot voice tickling him.

"It's good to know you're __alive__ , Ben"

That being said, she stood up, walking away from him.

Ben remained on the floor, literally floored. He touched his chest where her hand had rested, then looked at her back. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he stood up, ambushing her as he grabbed her arm.

She turned, looking puzzled, and a bit sad. Before she had time to say anything, Ben, holding her by the hips, pressed himself against her, capturing her mouth in the hungriest, wildest kiss she had ever experienced.

After what felt like a century, Ben released her, gasping for air.

The bottle had been uncorked, and there would be no putting the cork back on. Not anytime soon.

Satine looked so flushed, she would drive him crazy...

"Well, that was unexpect-mmph!" he cut her off with another kiss, his hand crawling up her bodice to cup a breast.

Satine's initial stupor quickly faded, as she responded to his initiatives with equal, mind-blowing enthusiasm, wrapping her arms around his neck, undressing him as they dragged themselves all over the hut. She, after all, was repressed as hell, too.

At the sight of his well-defined torso, Satine began kissing a trail down his chest. Her wet licks on his ultra sensitive skin prompted Ben to pick her up and move them to the dining area, where he released her, guiding a leg up the table as he kissed all the back of her bare limbs and backside. She reached out and cupped his face with a hand, stroking him endearingly.

"I missed you so much, Ben. Did you _miss_ me?"

Every touch of hers risked to be too much for him. One must not forget the implications of so much affection for Ben in that period, as a devastated man . Everything was magnified as he surrendered himself to a vortex of love and hungry desire. He was extremely aroused, but still, didn't want to deny her the tender consideration she deserved. Shaking, he took the hand she was stroking his face with, kissing it while squeezing his eyes, something like a knot of tears forming in his chest.

"Yes, I did" he affirmed deeply, lowering her panties.

"How much, Ben?"

"You have __no idea__ how much" with lust, he plunged his face between her butt cheeks as she arched her back, giving a surprised moan off, the beard an added sensory experience.

Eventually, Ben stood up again, meeting her tongue with his while he attempted to lift her bodice with his hand. She abandoned herself to his embrace, drawing light circles on his back as he touched her clit, then proceeded to press a leg between her thighs. As a response, she wantonly straddled it, sucking on his neck.

Ben wanted more, so did she. Somehow, they kissed their way to the bed, Satine's robe ending up on the floor. Smiling with mounting expectation, Ben plopped Satine on the mattress, running his hands along her legs. She invited him to dispose of her chemise, but the intricate strings and small buttons were slowing him way too much for his liking, so Ben, forsaking his teachings, used the Force to rip it open in quite the theatrical way.

"So, so naughty, Ben!"

He smiled mischievously as he brought her closer to him, kissing her.

Satine laughed, positively amused, though her sounds of mirth soon turned into moans of pleasure as Ben buried his face in the valley between her breasts, rolling her hardened nipples with his thumbs. He paused for a moment, hugging her like that, with his head resting on her chest, his arms wrapped around her back, taking in her warmth. Force only knew how much he needed it. Perceiving his feelings, Satine held him too, running her fingers through his hair, kissing his head, aware he would be able to sense her closeness through the Force.

As their embrace got more intense, Ben fell supine on the mattress, Satine on top of him. Their naked torsos pressed together, Satine continued to snog him fervently, then proceeded to kiss her way down his body while he squeezed her butt lightly. She circled his navel with her tongue, then kissed down to his waistband as Ben writhed beneath her, her hands massaging his inner thighs. Like a girl eager to open a box of chocolates, Satine yanked his underwear down, freeing his erect cock. Ben turned beet red as he took in her reaction at the sight of his bobbing length. She sat back, looking smug, pressing her hand against her chest, feigning surprise.

"My, my, you've most certainly changed, Ben!"

"I can assure you" he spoke with a low, sexy tone, collecting himself "It's for the __better!"__

He drew a nipple in his mouth, sucking on it hungrily while twisting a lock of blonde hair around his hand, then rolled on top of her as they both teased each other's private parts.

"Give me more, Obi-Wan" Satine demanded, moist and panting beneath him.

He hovered over her, kissing her on the lips and brushing her cheekbone with his nose. Then, with his hand, he traced the contours of her new scar, where the Sand People had plunged their spear.

"How much more?"

They locked eyes. Satine knew there was more to this question that the momentary circumstances let on. She kissed him sweetly, splaying her hands on his back.

"As much as you are willing to give, my beloved"

Ben took her hand in his, the passion of the moment preventing him from replying in an appropriate manner as he glided inside her, her incredible, wet tightness making him gasp. Satine's eyes rolled back, his length filling her, healing the voids in her soul in all the ways she could possibly imagine. Looking at him, her expression of a mix of dream-like disbelief and ecstasy, she looped a leg around him as they started moving in unison, the mattress wobbling under their frenzied bodies.

It was a good thing that Ben and Satine were in an isolated hut in the middle of the desert, for they were being obscenely loud.

Ben took a moment to look at all of her body as she ran her hands over his trim abdomen. The flushed, vibrating shape of the Duchess of Mandalore, close to orgasm because of __him__ , was almost enough to make him cum on the spot. They were so connected, after years of emotional solitude, it was overwhelming.

The rhythm increased, and a few powerful thrusts were all it took to send them over the edge, their bodies a tangled, moaning, hot mess.

After that, they had so many images, so many thoughts taking shape in their minds, but no energy, nor words, to voice them. All they could do was fall asleep in each other's reassuring, warm embrace, thinking, for the first time in forever, that things would actually go well.


	10. The calm after the storm

**A glimpse into Satine's mind after the storm.**

 **Duty can still wait.**

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Satine woke up when it was dark outside. The sand storm had calmed, but she had no idea what time it could be. It was late, but not __too__ late - she reasoned, smiling while tracing Ben's features as he slept next to her, his hand still clasped around hers, his expression the most relaxed she had seen since Qui-Gon was still alive.

What had taken place could signal the start of something new. One of them would have to make a choice, and, although Satine was in no rush to press things whatsoever, she seriously hoped Ben would open up to her. Everybody she knew was carrying burdens after the birth of the Empire, but Ben's always seemed __heavier__ , in a way, even after controlling for the devastating consequences of the Jedi Purge. Satine had never pushed him to disclose anything he was unwilling to disclose, choosing the path of tactful patience, confiding in the conviction that he would eventually talk, when ready to.

With everything they'd been through, being pushy with each other was the last thing they needed. But she couldn't deny her keen interest in getting to the bottom of some burning conundrums Obi-Wan was at the heart of. What role had he played in the downfall of the Republic, exactly? Why were Anakin and Padmé's child(ren) displaced? And especially, what had been of __Anakin__?

Out of all of Ben's eccentricities, his obstinacy to bypass anything remotely Skywalker-related was the most suspicious.

Every time they had talked, during the Clone Wars, Ben had never failed to mention him, be it during brief visits to the Mandalorian Sector, be it during fleeting, nighttime holo-chats. Anakin had clearly become a big part of his life after Qui-Gon's parting - if not the biggest - so now it felt extremely contrived that he wasn't even mentioning him.

Perhaps the young Jedi was dead, fallen alongside the woman he had fathered at least a daughter with, and the pain of his loss was too excruciating for Ben to talk about, hence his evasive denial. There again, she knew how much Ben tended to excessively blame himself for the tragedies of others, it had also been the case with her, after Maul's attack, when he had cut almost all contact with her, hiding behind his adherence to Jedi doctrine, for fear of getting her killed.

However, even if this was the case, there were still elements that didn't add up. For example, why was Leia with Bail Organa, instead of being raised by Padmé's family, on Naboo? Why was Ben on Tatooine guarding Anakin's unpleasant family - presumably keeping an eye on the little Force-sensitive boy (who presumptively was Leia's twin, or otherwise blood-related to his former apprentice)?

As if sensing her mental conjecturing, Ben stirred in his sleep, his eyes still closed. Satine continued to observe him, resting her cheek on the back of her hand. She saw him struggle to transition from sleep to wakefulness; just like he would struggle to make sense (and possibly develop a more defined purpose) of their reality in a post-democratic galaxy. Just like she was struggling to herself. But, eventually, she dared to retain a grain of hope: their time wasn't up, not yet, and this, in itself, was a propelling motivation to fight on.

Ben turned his head in his sleep, his hair covering his eyes. Noticing that the Jedi was twitching, Satine decided to encourage him with her own flavor of a helping hand: a kiss on the lips.

Ben's eyes finally fluttered open, allowing her to witness the progression of his reactions as he remembered where he was and what had happened: dreamy satisfaction, embarrassed fear, ultimately amazement.

Satine knew better than to be surprised by that, being used to Obi-Wanesque behavior, gimmicks and shticks of all sorts. Truth be told, she knew it would be foolish of hers if she wouldn't expect him to experience setbacks, or regressions, regarding their "relationship".

Even in the growing darkness of the room, she could see him blushing. However, he didn't release her hand, attempting a weak smile, instead. That made Satine grin, in turn.

"Good evening" he greeted her light-heartedly, his eyes sparking with a lively flame.

"Good evening" she greeted back, tracing the the contour of his furry jawline with her index finger.

Ben hesitated for a moment, as if questioning his legitimacy to touch her now that their mutual high had waned, then placed his hand on the curve of her hip, running it up and down her waist. Satine closed her eyes in blissful enjoyment.

His senses still hazy from the union of their bodies and minds, Ben's thoughts nonetheless wandered on to contemplative territories. He didn't know where things would go from there. Keeping Satine safe by avoiding contact with her had been a lot easier, in a way: he found it less challenging to shield her while he engaged in a form of selfless - albeit detached and painful - distancing from her.

While thinking about it, Ben caressed Satine more protectively. She snuggled closer to him, wrapping her arms around his back, intertwining her legs with his. And then, Ben knew. He knew that, no matter how much self-restraint he practiced, hiding from her (and especially, from his own emotions) would have been pointless, at that point. Now his feelings were out in the open, and he would have to deal with the consequences.

After some more-or-less bashful cuddling, Satine stood up, getting out of the bed, walking towards the refresher.

"I think I'll take a shower" she hinted innocently. Then, turning to catch a glimpse of Ben's desirous eyes on her, she added: "water is scarce in the desert"

She enjoyed watching him slide off the bed, shedding his milquetoast reservations, so deliciously naked, welcoming her suggestion.

"Absolutely correct, Your Highness"

Satine disappeared inside the refresher, closely followed by Ben. Soon thereafter, in the modest desert dwelling, the scent of blueblossom shower oil mixed with the sounds of flowing water and pleasure.

For that evening, serious conversations could wait.


	11. Spring in the desert part I

**I apologize for the long time it took to update, I am entering a** ** _busy_** **period. I plan on continuing this story, even though some chapters may take longer to write. Thank you for your reviews, you fandom people are the best!**

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 **Another morning in the life of (stunned) desert Ben and Satine Of The Dunes. Today's no ordinary day (Ben can't see why, Satine's eager to enlighten him).**

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Ben woke up to a fragrant scent of flowers. His eyes still closed, he allowed the pleasant feeling to fill his senses. It was so priceless to start the day with something other than the usual grim reminder of why he was where he was. His conscience sure didn't oppose it, either; he had the whole day for that sort of self-pitying reality check.

He squinted his eyes, the lights of dawn filtering through the window, slowly making out the Duchess' silhouette, precariously perched on the dining table, a long garland of Hottentot-fig flowers swung over her shoulder. As it was customary, it did take Ben a few minutes to rationalize what he was seeing, namely Kryze's creative antics. She was...wait. She had decorated the entire hut with flower garlands hanging from the ceiling down to the floor?

Ben stumbled out of bed, drowsily putting a white tunic on. He had long given up on pretending to have a grip on whatever situation he was in. How could it be otherwise, when a balanced and order-loving personality such as his had been doomed to a lifetime of Qui-Gon, Maul, Anakin and Satine-types? Not to mention the various Hondos, Ventresses and Quinlans he'd had to deal with. No wonder that sort of prolonged exposure had played a number on his nerves.

"Hello, Obi!" Satine greeted him cheerfully, daringly jumping from the table to the narrow windowsill, causing Ben to wince involuntarily.

"Always nice to see you, dear...all in one piece, especially" he greeted her.

"Today's a special day!" Satine squealed excitingly

Truth be told, Ben could hardly see why, but he decided to politely ask nonetheless.

"Why is that so?"

"It's the first day of spring, of course" said Satine as if it were the most natural thing in the galaxy.

"Oh. Right, forgive me Duchess, _how_ could I forget" he kept a straight face on, motioning to the windowpane, where the hot, infernal desert unfolded before their eyes as it had the previous day, and the day before that, without change. On Tatooine, it was easy to forget that the word "season" even existed.

Satine pierced him with ner gaze "You jester. I am talking about _Mandalorian spring_. You know we Mandos make a big deal about the advent of the equinoxes. Lots of parades and colorful floats with a triumph of flowers, armors and adorned horses roaming the streets"

Ben raised an eyebrow at her.

"So, it is only _logical_ that you would want to recreate all of this in my spacious abode...the horses and floats part seems the most _likely_ to happen, to me" he teased her dryly.

"Enough sulking for today..." chirped Satine.

"Really? I have been awake for a total of what...two minutes?"

While in the middle of his sentence, Ben shifted his attention to Satine's clothing. It was a v-neck, Sundari royal blue mermaid dress that fell down to her feet. Around her shoulders, she had a sort of oddly-shaped, green shawl which looked vaguely familiar. Actually, more than just _vaguely._

"...Satine is that my tablecloth?!"

Without providing a direct answer, Satine hopped to the floor, taking Ben by the shoulders, leading him to the door before the Jedi had a chance to protest.

"Obi-Wan, it's time to _meditate_! The lights of dawn are calling out to you...you wouldn't want to fall out of habit, would you?"

Before he realized it, Ben found himself outside, Satine shutting the door behind his back with a mischievous grin. He sighed. That woman would drive him crazy. However, he had to admit she was right about the meditation bit.

Having believed in the prodigies of incorruptible self-determination his whole life, Ben had a hard time coming to terms with it, but truth was, Satine knew exactly how to play the Ultimate Game with him. Scared, he wondered for a moment if her sheer chessplayer abilities would give rise to a manipulation of the subtlest, most lethal kind. Throughout his eventful existence, Ben had avoided perishing to a master class checkmate too many times for his survival to be attributable to simple luck. As the rows of Siths, warlords and bounty hunters who wished to see him dead fattened, Ben honed his fighting skills, working his way out of trouble with his own brand of rawness and elegance. Would a candid-looking, angelic woman of pacifist principles be the one to inflict that deadly blow, instead? And if yes, how? What would be of him? However, no matter how hard he tried to demonize her, Ben realized the evil-Satine-theory didn't add up. Actually, it didn't make any sense at all, not in light of her independent nature and of the affection she so carefully played down, yet she so clearly held, towards him. Satine's sincere, elemental love had never trapped him, in spite of her - Ben murmured to himself, afraid that the internal walls of his body would tremble if he dared to state it louder - need to be loved back. By _him_.

Slowly, Ben advanced through the rocks and sand lost in his own thoughts, until he found a favorable spot, where he sat cross-legged. A small herd of banthas peeked out from the horizon line, its outlines confusing themselves with the early morning, bluish lights. He inhaled, closing his eyes, and began his exercises, clearing his mind from all the images that had crowded it moments earlier. When he opened them again, after an indefinite amount of time, the bantha herd had reached his position, surrounding him. The large, furry beasts placidly ruminated all around. For some reason, they gave Ben peace. He exhaled, getting ready to stand up, when a voice caught his attention.

"I knew you'd be here. The creatures always gravitate towards you, Ben"

Satine appeared in his field of vision, a flimsi book under her arm, sashaying next to a large bantha and sitting down under its shadow, allowing it to shield her from the suns. In that moment, Ben thought she looked like a Force-vision, or an ethereal desert goddess, her blue-and-green-clad silhouette a stark contrast to the yellowish sand.

"Come think of it, they always have"

Ben tried to contain his genuine, all-too-revealing smile upon seeing her. Disclosing the raw flux of his emotions (what he often perceived as vulnerabilities) still came difficult to him. Therefore, it was only natural he sought comic relief, as a sort of protection.

"You look surprised. Why, may I ask? It appears to me that you never had problems associating me with beings of bestial nature" he frowned.

Satine glanced at him sideways, the ghost of a smile on her face.

"Actually, I wouldn't disdain seeing more of your _feral side_ , Master Kenobi"

At which, he blushed violently, though making an effort not to shy away from sustaining her gaze. He walked to her, sitting down next to the bantha himself. The massive, furry creature let out a subdued grumble, but kept still, graciously allowing them to revel in the coolness its shadow provided.

"So, Duchess, it appears you got your spring parade quadruped galore, in the end" Ben pointed out with a subtle smile.

"Better than any beach umbrella, if you ask me"

Ben started drawing circles in the sand with his index finger, then looked at the surrounding herd.

"The miracle of the living Force. No matter how scarce it is on this planet, it suffices just a little of it to find unmeasured relief"

Before he realized it, Ben's blush backtracked enough so that he worked up the courage to stroke Satine's hair as if it were the first time. She leaned her head against his shoulder, blissfully taking in that shared moment, appreciating the feel of his thinly-clothed body against hers, of his even barest soul intertwining with hers. Satine didn't know why that simple act risked to bring her to the verge of tears. There was something primordial to their being together in that basic way that reached right through her deepest core. Never in her life had she imagined she would get to experience what she was experiencing, neither the good, nor the less-than-good parts. Ben was like an oasis of water in the desert (literally) and perhaps it was the bittersweet nature of their situation to render her so emotional, as was the growing awareness that they could not continue living in the present forever.

Ben's mind had traveled to similar domains. Unavoidably, he made associations with his past, and with the grim prospect of his future. As images of Anakin inexorably filled his brain, he held onto Satine a bit tighter, concentrating on all of her presence, which fit in the Jundland Wastes like a sun in the immense dark canvas of space. Was it the silver lining in it all? His un-Jedi way of thinking nearly scared him. But, what choice did he have left? Was there really an alternative for him that wouldn't result in stagnation?

Before angst, regret and helplessness gripped his stomach, he slipped the flimsi book out of Satine's grasp and began reading it to her, her head in his lap, her hand toying with the hem of his half-open tunic. They could stay like that for hours, even days, and still, he would be content, Ben realized.

Eventually, though, the prospect of a "Mandalorian spring celebration" lured them to head back inside.

Up on her feet, Satine brushed grains of sand off her long dress, intently observing the banthas. Since they were so meek around them, she pondered with Ben if they should attempt milking a couple, so as to collect fresh blue milk. In that way - Satine reasoned - she could brew probiotic-rich blue kefir; a skill she had proficiently acquired from her childhood summers in Kalevala, when learning the ways of the Mando was an endeavor expected of every kid from her Clan.

However, the Duchess and the Jedi ultimately thought better of it, since those banthas were wild specimens and they were unwilling to deprive the calves of their food. They would have to make do with the ingredients at home, which wasn't exactly a discouraging prospect: Satine's vegetable garden kept growing, slowly but surely.


	12. Spring in the desert part II

**Satine misses her nephew. A piece of her family history is disclosed to Ben. A decision is made.**

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Not for the first time since Satine had relocated with him, Ben found, upon stepping inside his hut, that the interior was absolutely unrecognizable. Flower garlands were everywhere, as were freshly picked vegetable garden products. On the ground, a rock he could hardly believe she had mustered the strength to drag inside acted as a sort of altar for the candles, while his green tablecloth accounted for a slightly transparent, if sensual dividing curtain. The perfume was so pervasive it was hypnotizing to the senses, and once in there, Ben really had the impression of finding himself in a desert oasis. The woman sure had talent.

Shaking his head, Ben couldn't help giggling a bit. Satine's zeal appeared foolish to him, though he had to admit the hut looked welcoming, even magical, with all those flowers, radically different from the hellish pit where he'd _survived_ alone, prior to her arrival.

Picking up a couple of pikas and desert plums, Ben headed to the kitchen to make them lunch. Shortly afterwards, the two of them were eating puk-leaf and pureed pika spelt flatbread sandwiches, seated on the wicker bedroll, which Ben had courteously left in place (although, its presence in the hut was, by then, more symbolic than anything, since they shared the same bed now).

"I don't quite know how to fully express this in words, but, today I really wish I were on Mandalore" Satine disclosed after they finished their meal, standing up to lean her palms on the windowsill, flower garlands swinging at her passage.

"I never realized you were so into Mandalorian folk festivities" Ben pointed out, slightly ironically.

"It's not only that" she sighed, looking out the window, dead serious. Ben raised his gaze, suddenly noticing that a veil of sadness was clouding her face.

"Today it's Korkie's birthday" her voice came out as a grief-ridden whisper. She smiled sadly, then added: "It's not about the birthday per se, it's just that... I wish I could be there for him"

The intensity of her pain, which he now fully perceived, made Ben cringe. He could relate to that, oh if he _could_.

Battling against an unexplainable urge to retreat in his dungeon and drown in his own sorrow and guilt the entire day, he walked closer to her instead, observing her intently. Satine had often mentioned her nephew, in the same way he had often talked about Anakin, or almost. Although clearly involved with the boy's upbringing, Ben now realized that he knew very little about the specifics of his background, for Satine had always been vague about them, and he had never pushed her to disclose more than she was willing to share.

"He has no-one?" he asked delicately.

"Yes, and no" answered Satine.

"Your...sister?"

"Bo-Katan? She, well, cares about him, of course. In her own way" Satine briskly replied.

At Ben's pensive silence, she continued: "The familial ties she shares with him somewhat safeguard Korkie, they make him more of an asset and less of a soldier in her eyes. Still, Bo-Katan's set of values is quite incompatible with what Korkie was raised with. That, and the fact that she was never there for him growing up".

Satine crossed her arms, her back stiff.

Ben swallowed. On the one hand, he _wanted_ to inquire further, a question prickling the tip of his tongue. On the other, he dared not to.

"He has my _brother_ "

Satine put an end to his conjecturing. And Ben, for some _strange reason_ , could breathe a sigh of relief.

"I never knew you had a brother"

"Gal Kryze, short for Galaar, "hawk" in Mando'a. Never was a name less fitting to its owner" Satine stated solemnly.

"Why is that so?" Ben asked, intrigued.

"My brother is no hunter. He never was. Probably never will. You don't know about him because during the Clan Wars and immediately thereafter, when you met me, my Clan hid his existence from official records, to protect him. You see, Galaar is defenseless. He is quadriplegic since birth, he can't move nor feel anything from the neck down. My family tried everything, every cure, summoned every healer, even traveled to Kamino with him in search of a genetic fix when he was a baby, to no avail. Nothing ever worked, so Gal will never spread his wings, although he soars higher than most people I know in the skies of intellect and imagination. Unfortunately, there is little room for people like him on Mandalore, with the current state of affairs. Unable to partake in physical demonstrations of strength, Gal never stood a leadership chance, although smarter and most prepared than many Clan chieftains. And, when the civil war exploded, he became too easy of a target not to be sent into hiding. Now, Gal lives on Kalevala, writing books about political theory and holding debate-oriented soirées. He manages the Mandalorian Fund for Art and Environment and he was able to fulfill his fatherhood dream with Korkie, whom he loves dearly. That makes me so _really_ happy for him" Satine finished, still tense.

Neither the slight quivering in her voice, nor the undertone of regret in her words were lost on Ben, who wondered if the concern for her nephew and the reminiscence of her brother's struggles alone were enough to justify the full extent of her languishing behavior.

"However" she continued "Gal's physical limitations impede him to be near Korkie at a time when he needs guidance the most. He is capable for his age, tenacious, enthusiast...but there are still so many things he doesn't know about life, and Mandalore is a dangerous place to be in at this moment, especially for a Kryze. I really want to have faith in his better judgment and survival skills, but...Ben, he is still a teenager"

For a short moment, when her eyes met with his, a ray of uncensored light transpired from her gaze, before she returned to her uptight, self-sufficient shell. Her message to him had been willingly revealing, reluctant but well-addressed, shedding light on the _truth_ for a fleetingly powerful instant.

Although allowed access to this truth, Ben didn't exactly know what it meant, nor was it within his power to find out right away. However, what he knew was that Satine, as much as she generally diverted the attention from the ghosts of her past just like he did, required - no, _needed_ \- to find peace. Right now, finding peace meant knowing her nephew was alright. And, to gain that certainty, she would most likely have to leave Tatooine.

The idea of losing her again was as light as a large boulder on Ben's chest. He knew what her departure would mean. He knew that if she left, he would likely not see her for a long, long time, if ever again. Their life dynamics were precarious under Imperial rule, and she would have no way to contact him, for he was expected to maintain his state of complete isolation. Ben was indignant, disappointed with himself. His fellow Jedi would be disappointed. Was he beginning to toy with the assumption that she would stick around? How very _weak_ of his. Frustrated, he looked at the flower garlands. Life. She'd brought life into his hut, but she hadn't limited herself to that. She had brought _him_ back to life. As painful as his lonesome exile had been, it was nothing compared to the prospect of losing Satine, which, in turn, was nothing compared to seeing her suffer.

No. He wouldn't. He wouldn't be the one to hold her back.

Ben had made up his mind. Before the words blocked in his throat, he spoke:

"Satine, before we...before the _storm_ you expressed the desire to check on your spaceship in the Jundland Wastes. Would you like to go tomorrow?" he proposed, his voice sincerely caring.

She looked at him, touched. Initially, she didn't say anything, then closed the distance between them, hugging him gratefully.

His understanding was priceless to her, and as he returned her hug, he made peace with a part of him, acknowledging something that had always existed, unexpressed, unvoiced, but not for these reasons unreal: his love for her.

 _One hour before dawn, the next day..._

Ben's sharp Jedi hearing detected a chorus of grunts and growls in the distance, abruptly waking him up. For a few seconds, Ben remained still, sitting up in bed, attempting to interpret what his senses were telling him, anxiety threatening to erupt in his system. His sleep-obfuscated mind tapped on his past experiences and worst nightmares, offering a lugubrious array of possible explanations for those Force-unbalancing noises. Sand People, ready to raid the hut? Jabba the Hutt's guards, eager to hand him in to awaiting stormtroopers? Or even Maul, set on finishing the job he had never completed on Mandalore?

His breathing now heavy, lucidity rushing back at him, Ben realized those grunts simply belonged to a family of Womp Rats, a species which favored the dark hours to go hunting.

Feeling like a failure from a Jedi viewpoint, Ben sighed deeply, lying back on the mattress, noticing Satine's sleeping form next to him. At least she looked peaceful now, he told himself. The previous evening had been so hard on her, evoking painful memories, as it had on him, who had felt rather helpless trying to dampen those for her, and for himself.

Soon, Ben realized attempting to fall asleep again would be useless. He stood up, as quiet as a cat, and went to brew himself tea, the flower garlands swinging lazily at his passage. Then, exiting the kitchen, he double-checked the backpacks they had gotten ready for their desert crossing in a few hours. Darkness still thick, he relied on the Force in order to do so, not wanting to wake Satine up by lightening candles. However, he realized his worries were unfounded, for the Duchess had already awakened.

"Obi-Wan, what's wrong?" she called out to him, leaning on her side. He sat back on the mattress, touching her arm reassuringly.

"Nothing. Just a family of Womp Rats"

"Womp Rats..."

"Yes. Restless, pretentious creatures"

"Really? I though _someone else_ fit that description perfectly"

He chuckled.

"So, Duchess, do you still want to embark on the desert trek today?"

"I do...although, I will need to change into something else, first" she hinted.

"So...this _changing_ implies you will need to get undressed first, am I correct?"

Ben's ears barely registered the words his mouth had spoken.

"Very insightful, Master Kenobi"

With a crooked smile, he crawled closer to her, on all fours.

"Let me relieve you of this strenuous task" he said, starting to roll her nightgown up, holding his breath as inches of skin were revealed. When he was done, her body firm and slick under his, she decided it was her turn to unclothe him.

"Strenuous task? You had it easy, while I am stuck to unwrap these chaste, proper garments of yours. Chivalry, you call it" she provoked him.

"A gentleman cannot help this injustice if Your Highness privileges clothes that would be appropriate for a sylph"

Satine unbuckled his belt and undid his obi, letting them slip to the ground.

"Chastity belt's out...so very modest, Obi-Wan"

He kissed her hungrily, his fingers digging in the flesh of her hips, proceeding to explore her body, sensing she was really excited, already.

"So very chaste..."

"Like second nature..."

Their making out session got more and more intense, just as the first lights of the day began filtering through the window. The incredible flowery scent and suggestive romantic ambience of the previous day still permeated the hut, making their encounter all the more enticing.

"You taste like tea" Satine whispered, flushed and ruffled.

"Do you mind it?"

"I mind it the same way a nymph minds aphrodisiac poison on a lover's lips"

Ben moaned as a response, his hands crawling everywhere.

Now that no piece of sheet nor clothing separated their two bodies anymore, Satine sat on his lap, facing him, reveling in his heat, conveying all her intentions.

As they consummated their love, one last gem in that little corner of Eden before a back-breaking desert journey, Ben wondered if Satine's permanence on Tatooine, with him, could be compared to the way she had decorated his hut. Absolutely transient, but eternally bright in a sanctuary of continually shifting, yet ever-unchanging, infertile dunes. Only time would tell if the comparison would turn out to be exact, however, Ben decided to take that moment for what it was: something beautiful, not to be denied, nor fought against. After all, the truth is often what we make of it, and Ben decided - not fully consciously - that there was no reason why Satine couldn't be part of the larger picture that defined _his_ truth. Not when life had proved capable of destroying (or rebuilding) everything, regardless of external factors any mortal being had the illusion of controlling.


	13. Journey through the faces of Tatooine

**Satine and Ben cross the Jundland Wastes to reach her spaceship, making some encounters in the process.**

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* **Mando'a translation:**

 **Gihaal =** ** **dried fish-meal (like pemmican - lasts for years but very pungent smell).****

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Under the binary suns of Tatooine, Satine and Ben marched hour after hour. Their heavy breathing was only barely audible over the insistent blowing winds, which moved massive amounts of sand at each gust.

Ben's pace was slow and steady, patient, knowingly bearing the burdens of that reality with submissive acceptance, as if he wouldn't expect it to be any other way.

Satine's strides, on the other hand, were slightly more hurried, fierce; she advanced with a purpose and with a degree of annoyed fatigue. She would rather concentrate her energies on reaching their destination, where a temporary relief from that overwhelming - often scary - nature awaited them. She was intimidated by Tatooine at its rawest, hence her facade of toughness; though, if asked, she would never admit it to Ben, who, on his hand, would never try and change her approach to the situation. The calm and the storm. The Jedi and the Mandalorian.

However, the fugitive Jedi - the most well-versed on survival in extreme environments of the two - purposefully paid attention to Satine's Force-presence, picking up on signs of distress, making as many stops as he deemed necessary so that she would not be stonkered by the end of the trek.

After six days and three sandstorms - which delayed them considerably - the flat, whitish rooftops of Mos Eisley finally peeked out from behind rocky formations in the distance.

Stopping to observe the hive of scum and villainy atop a stony hill, the two travelers began discussing the to-do. Since it was nearly sunset, and they were quite weary, they reasoned it would be best if they sought refuge for the night. At the same time, to remain true to their mission and not to waste any time, they set their mind on gathering as many news on the Empire as they could, with a special focus on the Mandalorian sector. Satine's departure was implicitly at stake, after all.

 _ _One hour later__

Ben was sitting at The Chalmun's Cantina, amid a crowd of more or less shady individuals. In the name of efficiency, he and Satine had split, so while he was trying to extrapolate substantial information by interpreting pub-talk (one of the Jedi specialties), Satine was at the inn next-door, attempting to get a hold on a newspaper (printed flimsi was still going strong on backwater planets like Tatooine) while booking a room for the night.

Ben discretely took in his surroundings. With only two blaster shots fired and a death threat, it had been an uneventful evening so far.

A chained, blue Twi'lek who looked remarkably like Aayla Secura was entertaining the onlookers with her wanton moves, dancing her way through the tables.

When the clients groped her, though still smiling, the girl visibly twitched.

Ben gloomily glanced at her, wondering how much Jabba was making out of slaves such as her.

If only he could be __free__ to be a Jedi out in the open...then he remembered that it wouldn't make any difference, Tatooine being outside the Republic's jurisdiction. The grip on the tankard he was holding tightened.

 _"_ _ _These people need our help, Master. Why can't we do anything?" young Ani would ask him on several occasions during their Outer Rim excursions.__

 _"_ _ _Because we can only serve the Republic and its citizens. This may seem unfair, but we cannot mingle with external affairs, when not stated otherwise. It would jeopardize more than a few delicate political balances" he would reply mechanically.__

 _"_ _ _It's not fair! They need our help, too"__

Oh, Anakin.

"Horny lekku wanna taste?" the girl's sultry, if slightly anxious proposal dragged Ben back to the here and now. He looked at her intently, her face all of a sudden not so dissimilar from any war victim's face he had ever encountered.

"No, thank you"

No thank you. That was all he could do for her; his powerlessness a painful reminder of the status quo.

As the Twi'lek moved on to the other tables, Ben turned to his left, overhearing the heated conversation of a couple of out-of-breath foreigners, who were complaining about the land-grabbing policies the Empire had put in place. By the looks of it, they were fresh out of space travel. Such events weren't rare occurrences as of late: although still a largely unappealing planet on the back-burner, Tatooine had seen its traffic of new residents increase steadily after the rise of the Empire, as more citizens were on the run from an oppressive regime. Most inhabitants of Tatooine, however, didn't get what this fuss Imperial deserters made was all about, having had to put up with the Hutt's scam empire all their lives.

The door of the Cantina swung open, and Satine stepped inside, her face shadowed by the shawl she'd wrapped around her head. Ben was instantly on his feet, reaching her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder so that he could whisper inside her ear:

"So...any relevant news, my sweet Gihaal*?"

Satine stood with her hands on her hips "Be thankful we are __forced__ to maintain a low profile, otherwise I'd feed you to the Sarlacc with my own two hands, Ben __my dearest__ " she menaced.

"Is it just me, or do your words simply exude pacifism?"

"Mandalore does not forget"

"What about forg-i-v-e?"

"Mmh, perhaps the negotiations are still open on this aspect, for you. What have you got for me?"

"Satine, if you you put it __that way__..." he raised his eyebrows, a glint of naughtiness in his eyes, smiling broadly.

Satine gaped at him, feigning indignation: "And I fussed so much over disrupting your monastic lifestyle!"

He chuckled, before turning serious again.

"Nothing that could be relevant to you, unfortunately. Just the usual accounts of expropriations in the Inner Rim"

"I can't exactly say the same: Sundari news were front page this time. Apparently..." she pressed herself closer to him, lowering her voice even further "...the Empire is making steps ahead in trying to take over the reins of Mandalore. They have already sealed the first alliances with notoriously disgraced heads of Clan, so as to slowly infiltrate themselves in the pyramid of power while keeping things quiet from the outside. But that's not all"

"What's more?"

"There was this man at the reception, bounty hunter type, or a fugitive at the very least, commenting on the news with the innkeeper. I recognized his accent as Concordian. Perhaps there are still..."

"...things we could learn from him?"

"I knew you'd agree" Satine looked satisfied.

"Good. Where is he headed?" Ben inquired, secretly giddy with excitement he got to play detective again.

"I made sure we ended up next to his room at the inn" revealed Satine.

"What would I do without you..." smiled Ben.

At night fall, Ben and Satine tiptoed to the second floor of the inn, where their accommodation was located. The room was decidedly squalid, with one single, dusty-looking bed pushed against the wall, spots of mold on the ceiling and a (probably unwashed) chamber pot tucked away in one corner. Needless to say, the whole picture came out as quite grotesque.

As Ben uncovered the bed, revealing its holey, ancient-looking mattress, Satine made a face, seriously hoping pursuing the Concordian would be worth the hassle.

"There's no way I am sleeping on __that__ " she announced, pointing at the bed while unfolding her sleeping bag.

Ben blinked, not at all astounded by Satine's queasiness, being quite picky himself. However, as a Jedi, he had learned to sleep almost anywhere.

"Aren't you afraid of scorpions?" he asked, eyeing the ground.

Satine looked at him for a long moment.

"That bed is far __scarier__!"

"Well, it sure isn't the picture of hygiene, but I wouldn't go as far as preferring scorpions over..."

"Obi-Wan, your life, your choice. But keep in mind, if you do sleep there, _forget_ about coming near me without being thoroughly hosed first!"

"By electing to sleep on the ground, I assume Your Highness will certainly not need assistance in case a sand crustacean shows up!" Ben snapped back.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Spying on the Concordian deserter turned out to be quite delusional. Through the wall, Ben had attempted prying into the sleeping man's head to extract information about Mandalore, to no avail. As it turned out to be, the man - a Death Watch sympathizer - had been on the run for quite some time, so that he was no more up to date on the internal affairs front than Satine, or himself. Not even sneaking inside his room while he was downstairs entertaining himself with booze and Twi'leks had yielded the desired results.

But it wasn't all. As it was usually the case, Satine had been right about the bed. When he woke up, Ben found his skin had gotten all itchy. He resisted the urge to scratch his face like a wild animal, wondering what could have caused that...until a close inspection by Satine revealed fleas nestled in his beard.

By the end of the morning, while they were at the market purchasing provisions for the second stint of their trip, the situation had worsened so much that Ben saw himself forced to __shave__ for the first time in at least ten years. He looked grim, like someone who had to bury a deceased pet, while Satine was triumphant, openly gloating, finally getting to see his sexy chin and jawline again.

Satine was adamant sleeping under the stars was unquestionably preferable to spending another night in any Mos Eisley room, so, later that day, flea bites and all, the dynamic duo resumed their marching, entering a peculiar section of the Jundland Wastes.

The stretch of contiguous sand desert that separated Mos Eisley from Anchorhead - with few, mostly abandoned settlements in between - was as crowded as a Coruscant Skyroute compared to the area where Ben lived. Caravans of merchants, troubadours and nomads came in quick succession one after another, leaving trails of frankincense at their passage.

Although the thick, orange-yellowish sand made advancing harder, the occasional thorny bushes, the lively atmosphere and the slightly more clement climate positively counterbalanced the hardships. Overall, it was a much more pleasant stretch than the previous one, allowing Satine and Ben to even feel the slightest bit touristy.

At night, while they lied huddled up to combat the teeth-clattering cold, they could listen to the winds orchestra of viola-and-cello-like sounds whistling against the high dunes, while being able to look at the starriest of night skies.

During daytime, they ran across a couple of ancient uninhabited towns, relics of ages past, eerily silent and spectral, half-swallowed by the sands as they were.

At the end of their ninth day of travel, Ben was lying flat on his back, observing the shooting stars, contemplative yet lulled into a state of relaxation by the winds and Satine, who was running her fingers through his auburn hair as she often liked to do.

He was thinking about his life journey to the heart of the Force, how the challenges of the past few years had tested his body and mind but had strengthened his faith. It was through accepting challenges, and overcoming difficulties, that his connection with the Force grew the most.

When asked, he had even disclosed part of his thoughts to Satine, with whom he was sharing the blankets. She was the main reason he was keeping it together.

"Failures and losses remind me there is a rationale behind the Jedi severing of attachments, over and over again" he sighed, venturing on painful territories.

"Perhaps. But they are also a source of hope, like water in the desert"

"How so?"

"If challenges and hardships lead you to strengthen your connection to the Force, then you come out as stronger. You grow as a person, and in that way you become better at servicing others"

Ben nodded, pondering her words, turning to look at her with affection. Her hand traveled from his scalp to his jaw and cheek, stroking the now nearly-smooth surface.

"You do miss it, don't you?" Ben provoked her, suppressing a giggle.

"What?"

"Your _pet_ " he was referring to the beard. Although Satine would never admit it to him out of pride, he knew she liked it very much.

"Ne'er!"

"Fear not, soon it will grace my face again, it is only a matter of a few days"

"Talk about severing attachments!"

 _The next day_

Shortly after reaching the commercial settlement of Anchorhead - less crook at heart than Mos Eisley and as close to a port town as one could find on Tatooine - Ben and Satine stealthily crossed the center and headed into the desert to begin the last leg of their journey.

Ben had gotten quieter than usual. Satine had not confirmed nor called off her intention to depart, the situation on Mandalore being hard to interpret from Tatooine. She had not mentioned wanting to leave right away, yet Ben knew her concerns over Korkie's well-being and her warrior-like dedication to her former position as head of the Mandalorians meant her departure could not be ruled out - provided her spaceship was in decent conditions. Although in denial of his own feelings, he started mentally preparing himself for their separation.

The desert landscape had changed once again, the orange-yellow dunes of the previous days replaced by white-grayish rocks and rougher sand of a saltier kind. As they walked, Satine kept noticing primitive-looking huts rising haphazardly above the sand. Remarkably, the structures appeared to be made of clay, dried mud and even _wood_ instead of the usual pourstone.

"Ben, how come are these huts made of wood?" she asked, bewildered.

"Those are the homes of the Womp Rats" Ben replied, reading her mind.

"What?!"

"Yes. Womp Rats collect sticks, mud, bones and other construction materials to build and expand their homes, then cement them with their excrement. As their waste materials dry up, the dens become harder than rock, nearly indestructible. You would never guess it, but the dwellings of those huge rats are handed down from one generation to another, often resisting for centuries, even millennia. Some of these structures are as old as 40000 years"

"That's absurd!"

"It sure is, if you ask me! But it is a surefire way to learn about the history of this planet. Look at all that wood. It means that..."

"...Tatooine was once a lush planet with water and trees" Satine whispered, thoughtful.

"Exactly. Look where sentients' over-exploitation has led it to" Ben pointed out sadly.

"Just like the toxic desert sections on Mandalore. Though those were due to bombings and mass-destruction weapons, mainly" Satine sighed, shaking her head.

Ben's shoulders drooped, a pang of sadness piercing right through him as he perceived her grief and feelings of helplessness.

"Now that the Empire is added to the mix, I fear for the uncontaminated zones we have left" she continued.

"Perhaps dear old reliable Mando pride will stop them, before it's too late"

"I hope it's not too late, already" she added, her expression hardened.

Ben tried to come up with something to make her feel better, but he realized that he wouldn't need to: Satine's spaceship was right in front of them, apparently untouched. They had reached their destination.


	14. Ambushed!

**After an action-packed flight, our two heroes bump straight into...the Lars homestead.**

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Here it was. The Alderaanian spaceship the Organas had loaned Satine stood right where she had left it, dusty but solid, like a strapping horse.

Ben swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew what this could mean. His minutes with __her__ were most likely counted. As she tugged at his sleeve, encouraging him to enter the spacecraft to check it out together, Ben forced himself to smile, allowing peace and calm to embrace him. In reality, his heart was shattering.

Once inside, Satine was pleased to ascertain that everything looked in perfect condition. There were even a couple of barrels of gas for refueling.

Attempting to conceal his sadness as best as he could, Ben worked up the courage to ask about her intentions:

"Are you happy?" he started.

"Of course I am! How could I not be? The Jawas left this ship __alone__ , can you believe it?"

"Truly remarkab...actually, now that you bring the subject up, I hardly can" Ben admitted, realizing how abnormal it had been of the industrious Jawas to bypass such a juicy opportunity. Something definitely didn't add up.

"Does this ship have anti-theft shields in place?" he asked, his Jedi senses suddenly aroused.

"Not that I'm aware of" Satine replied, starting to grow suspicious herself.

Ben's eyes scanned their surroundings, in search of any abnormalities. She moved a couple of steps forward, looking at him.

"Obi, what do you think-"

But she never got to complete her sentence. Without her noticing, Satine's leg hit a red light beam, setting off the ringing alarm on a motion sensor someone had put in place. It was a trap, and they had walked right into it.

At the same time, Ben felt a great disturbance in the Force, with multiple presences approaching.

"Satine, we must get out of here!" he nearly shouted, hurrying to unlock the pressurized hold door open.

Too late.

The moment his feet touched the sand, half a dozen ugly mugs surrounded him. They were armed to the teeth and their demeanor didn't leave room for any friendliness. Leather and chains were predominant elements in their attires, leading Ben to think that they might be...

"Nobody parks a spaceship for free without the Hutt's permission!" the largest and ugliest of them bellowed.

Oh, great. Jabba's minions.

Ben urged himself to stay calm. He could easily best all of them in combat, even the menhir-sized Trandoshan, but he needed to act smart not to reveal his true identity.

Satine was standing on top of the entrance ramp to the spaceship, as if petrified. As two of the men got their hands on Ben, shaking him and blocking his shoulders, the Trandoshan started visually examining the spacecraft, until he set his eyes on the ship's logo, at which point he stroked his scaly chin.

"Alderaan, uh? This spaceship is no piece of junk. Asylum-seekers, that's what you are. Your ransom will compensate us handsomely, then" he sneered.

"Guys, we're rich!"

One of the other lackeys squirmed in protest: "But Druukk, Jabba's orders about the ship and its owners were clear. They are _his_ property. What if he finds out..."

"We'll say they rebelled and we were forced to kill them. The Hutt doesn't need to know the whole truth" the Trandoshan Druukk Envill roared, gaily slapping Ben's face as if the mere suggestion of him rebelling made him laugh.

"I almost feel bad for these two _weaklings_ " Druukk continued, punching Ben in the stomach, who involuntarily retched. He needed a plan, and quickly at that.

"Stop this immediately, you brute!" Ben thought his ears had played a trick on him. Turning his head to face the ramp, he saw Satine, angrily staring at their aggressors with a fear-inducing gaze. Ben wondered if she'd lost her mind.

A stocky, tattooed goon, the only human of the pack, cackled in her face: "Or else, what will you do to us, _babe_?"

An uproar of laughter followed.

"Moiron, bring that woman down here, and _teach her her place_ " Druukk ordered.

Ben could only watch helplessly as Moiron mercilessly grabbed Satine, dragging her down the ramp all the way to his speeder bike, where she was slammed against. Satine yelped in pain.

 _How dare they?_

Ben's blood was boiling, and for a moment, he felt something hot and uncontrollable enter his system, taking over the reins of his mind and conditioning his better judgment. _Fear_.

"What's an Alderaanian babe like you doing here? You know, it can get lonely for us, around these dunes..." Moiron said with a slimy tone, brushing a rough finger against Satine's smooth cheek "...maybe you can do something about it" he chortled.

Ben neatly saw the Duchess wince.

 _Anger_. He was...angry. About to do something he would later regret. Ben was just a second away from activating his lightsaber with the Force, when he caught sight of Druukk Envill's eyes. Yellow. Just like Anakin's, on Mustafar. Sucking in air, Ben released his emotions, having realized those eyes could have very well been his own. Thoughts of Anakin with Padmé intertwined with his own feelings about Satine. Guilt and pain about the past followed suit. No, he wouldn't...he wouldn't be blinded. He owed it to the memory of his apprentice. Luke deserved better and...Satine did, too.

He was still recoiling, when the Duchess' voice caught his attention. She was counting her aggressors aloud:

"Let's see...one, two, three...seven of you and one of me. What's a poor lady to do?" Satine pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and buried her face in there, clearly sobbing. Was she _crying_? Ben couldn't believe his ears.

Entertained, the thugs cheered, laughing till they had tears in their eyes. In their mirth, they didn't notice it when Satine slipped her phial of perfume through the handkerchief's folds.

Moiron got closer to her, wrapping his apish arms around her "Enough with the crying. Show me what you're capable of, you silly little slu-, AAARGH!"

It all happened in a heartbeat. Satine sprayed the perfume in Moiron's eyes, then pressed the balled handkerchief into his open, screaming mouth while kicking him hard between the legs.

"There you are!" she shouted.

As the other thugs hurried to get her, she jumped on Moiron's speeder bike, turning it on. At the same time, Druukk pointed his blaster at Satine, prompting Ben, who was still in his grip, to twist his arm and Force-push him unconscious against the spaceship's side. Druukk's blaster at hand, Ben started running towards Satine, who was zigzagging full throttle between the thugs to reach him. As one of them ran straight into her, Ben was astounded to witness her running him over, instead of avoiding the collision.

"Ben, jump on board!" she shouted.

Ben didn't need to be told twice. With a parabolic hop that was both a little too theatrical and a little too precise for someone who wanted to pass as non-Force-sensitive, he landed right behind Satine, on the speeder bike's seat, enveloping his free arm around her waist in a sensation-rich, all-revealing tight hug that caused her to shudder.

As Satine sped through the dunes pressing on the gas pedal, Ben fired a few blaster shots at their back in a desperate attempt to scare their pursuers away.

"What's the plan?!" a distressed Satine inquired.

"Well..."

"I hope coming up with one won't take you as long as it took you to act against those thugs!"

"Wha-...? Satine, I couldn't risk disclosing our identity!"

"You didn't seem troubled by the idea that I could have been violated by them!"

Her words were like a stab in the heart. If only she _knew_.

"That's not true! Not at all!" he exclaimed, articulating each sound so that the sentence would last longer and have more impact.

He threw a quick glance behind his back, confirming the picture the Force had painted in his mind: the goons were fast-approaching, and it was only a matter of minutes before they caught up with them.

"Out of all the speeder bikes, why this one _old_ model!" Satine hissed frustratingly. They had already reached full speed, the old, strained engine whirring dangerously beneath them, but, to Satine, they could never go fast enough. Ben thought she sounded remarkably like Anakin, defeatedly realizing he'd been doomed to a lifetime of scary rides in the company of reckless drivers. Or, in cases such as this, perhaps life-saving.

Far east, on their left, Ben saw a sandstorm approaching.

He put his thinking cap on: they were several miles out of Anchorhead, on the Great Chott salt flat. There was no way they'd make it back to one of the small settlements between Anchorhead and Mos Eisley, neither to the sheltered caves and rocky formations near his hut. However, there existed another _possibility_ , if they dared crossing the sandstorm...no. It was too dangerous.

Ben knew the Lars homestead was less than half a hour away from their location, provided they'd be able to maintain the current speed. On their way to Satine's spaceship, he had purposefully steered clear of it, choosing a longer route so that they could stop by at Mos Eisley, where noteworthy Imperial news were likelier to circulate.

He had to make a decision, and no easy one at that. What would be worse? Terminating a handful of petty goons, all the while endangering Satine's life, or attempting to sneak into the house where little Luke Skywalker lived without being seen? Ben was tempted to opt for the former option, but then forced himself to face a thorny question: what was he most concerned about? Luke's safety or...Satine finding out about the _truth_?

Immensely frustrated with himself, Ben made a drastic decision.

"Satine" he thundered over the clamor of the engine and the rumble of the approaching sandstorm.

"What? Ben, hurry, the storm is imminent!"

"Enter it!"

"Have you lost your mind?!"

"We will face it, I've got an idea! Satine, please, _trust me_!"

Trust me. _Trust me_. Why did those words sound so unnatural coming from him? He never, ever thought he'd tell someone to put their trust in him again.

Satine must have been of the same mind, because she was so astonished that she steered to the left right away without further ado.

As the infernal clouds of thick, suffocating sand surrounded them, Ben took his cloak off and wrapped it around Satine as an extra protection. He took hold of the handlebars, placing his large hands over hers, guiding her. Concentrating greatly, he was able to keep the sand away from their airways thanks to the Force. Their pursuers had ventured inside the storm as well, though Ben hoped they'd be overcome by the winds and lose their traces soon enough.

Long, interminable minutes passed with little change, until, all at once, Satine had the impression that an air pocket had hit the speeder bike, for there was a clear drop in elevation, followed by a succession of jerks and tugs. Before she realized it, they had stopped, and Ben was dragging her away from the bike, and inside...a cave? A storage room? No. A _house_.

Still hazy from the ride, Satine collapsed on her knees, coughing sand, vaguely aware of the white pourstone walls surrounding her. She felt Ben's reassuring grasp on her shoulders, then a pitter-patter of small feet on the ground. Moments later, as she drank water from a flask, everything became clearer.

"Ben" she murmured, grabbing his arms and meeting his expressive eyes. He seemed relieved to see her speak.

"Ben, where are we...OH!"

Satine gave a start when she realized another pair of blue eyes was observing her. Though kneeling, Satine was considerably taller than the tiny person who stood in front of her.

"Gah!" the little one squealed, throwing his chubby arms in the air.

"Yes, yes, I get you're _happy_ to see me" she heard Ben whisper slightly awkwardly.

Satine blinked.

Right in front of them, stood the Larses' little blonde boy, Skywalker's mysterious relative.


	15. Skybaby's guests

****As Luke entertains his guests, Ben questions the righteousness of his mission. Will Owen show up?****

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 ** **Mando'a dictionary:****

 ** **Ik'aad = baby or child under three****

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In all honesty, Satine didn't know what to think of the situation.

She should have been annoyed, for the Hutt had sabotaged her ride back to Mandalore. Bordering on desperate, because losing the ship meant that she was most likely stuck on Tatooine; her permanence on the dustball planet no longer a matter of personal choice, but an inevitable predicament. Satine, mingle-with-Kryze's-self-determination-and-you're-doomed-Satine , knew this enslavement of sorts should have troubled __her__ \- the Duchess of a large planetary sector - immensely.

And yet, despair wasn't the prevalent feeling, at the moment. It couldn't be, not in light of the most recent turn of events. Any other woman would have felt confused, even cheated, but Satine knew better than to be surprised by Kenobi's mental processes. If anything, she hoped this impromptu visit to the __Lars homestead__ would shed light on some of the secrets he had worked so hard to keep from her. After all, with Obi-Wan, it often was like that: either a treasure hunt for the next piece of the puzzle, or __nothing__. And then there was this child, whose eager, almost desperate willingness to interact with the Jedi was an all-telling sign that their backstories were more intertwined than Ben would ever let on.

On his side, the man was taciturn, striving to impress a semblance of indifference on his features without totally succeeding at it, as far from fooling Satine into buying his potential excuses as Maul was from defeating Sidious. The toddler's enthusiasm sure didn't help. Or perhaps it did. Luke trilled with excitement and flailed his limbs about and reached out to him through the Force, as happy as can be. Yoda's pants, he had almost forgotten how eager younglings were to connect to other Force-sensitives...oh right. __Younglings__. Luke, a youngling. Luke, Anakin's __son__. No. Stop it. Stop it right now, Kenobi.

"Obi-Wan" Satine spoke.

"Mmh" came the reluctant reply. He was expecting her to __pry__ an answer out of him, lay him bare before a flock of vultures, shame him. Leave him out in the open to rot after gutting him and feeding off his entrails like a rapacious bird of prey. And he knew that if she did choose to act that way, he wouldn't stop her. He deserved all of that, and more.

"Is he all by himself?" she asked instead.

Ow. Satine. Ever the merciful, generous one.

She sure had a point. He couldn't sense Owen and Beru's presences in the house, and that, coupled with Luke's over-friendliness around strangers, should have been enough to alarm him. Instead, it was with a bit of shame that he acknowledged his self-centered __relief__ : not having to deal with Lars was the first good news of the day, and he seriously hoped things would stay that way.

"It appears so. Satine, I think we should get goi-"

" _ _Up__!"

Luke's squeaky, slightly hoarse voice caught his attention. He blinked, looking at the child, who was extending his arms towards him.

"Uuupp!" he repeated, flashing a wide toothy smile.

Ben felt at loss, strangely stiff and uncoordinated around the kid. However, he needed not self-interrogate on the to-do much longer, for Satine promptly picked Luke up, holding him at Ben's eye-level.

" _ _Satine__ , this is hardly the time or place for..."

"Fear not, __ik'aad__. Grumpy old Ben is not going __anywhere__ " she cut him short with a finality that left little room for argumentation, shooting a withering look his way.

Oh great. Two against one. How come did Satine teaming up with Skybaby not come as a surprise?

Needless to say, Luke squealed delightfully, as if all he'd been waiting for was a chance to inspect Ben, the only Force-buddy he would come across in that dismal wasteland, more closely. As the chubby, tiny hands clawed his face, Ben realized he ought to be grateful that his beard was little more than a stubble, after the flea incident.

"Abababah!" Luke screeched, rubbing Ben's cheeks. At twenty-two months of age, his baby talk was still largely incomprehensible

"Yeah! Ben's beard!" Satine encouraged, seemingly amused.

"Ben's beed!" Luke repeated, pulling on Ben's elongating chin hairs.

"Satine, you're not helping...ouch!" Luke had found and pressed his Adam's apple with two fingers, as if it were some sort of button.

Satine's only answer was to simply transfer Luke's weight onto his arms. Ben saw himself forced to tighten his hold on the toddler, and as he stood there, staring into the vaguely familiar deep-blue orbs, his defensive cuirass wavered, dizziness taking over him.

Ben had been guarding his apprentice's son devoutly every day since handing him over to Beru and Owen, yet holding him was an entirely different affair. While in his arms, Ben was left with no choice but to acknowledge Luke's existence for what it was: a defenseless child who would willingly entrust his life to him without batting an eyelash. Staring into the eyes of the "galaxy's greatest hope", he was left with no choice but to face his demons, the words Satine had pronounced on Mandalorian Spring Day, about Korkie and her sister, resurfacing and filling his brain: _"_ _ _Bo-Katan? She, well, cares about him, of course. In her own way. The familial ties she shares with him somewhat safeguard Korkie, they make him__ more of an asset and less of a soldier __in her eyes. Still, Bo-Katan's set of values is quite incompatible with what Korkie was raised with. That, and the fact that she was never there for him growing up__ _"_

Ben had always tried to justify his distancing from Luke as necessary. He would be the mentor, Owen would be the father, he always repeated to himself. It was better to separate the two things, _history_ had taught. In light of his experience with Anakin, he deemed this course of action to be for the greatest good, but now an insidious doubt paved its way to his heart. Hidden behind an uncriticizable sense of duty and warranted by the Jedi doctrines he adhered to, did his reluctance to partake in the boy's upbringing mean that he was setting Luke up for the very slaughter that had doomed his blood father in the first place? If so, how could he blame Owen for rejecting his ways, when the moisture farmer embodied virtue in the guise of a good, loving father while he... was to Luke what Bo-Katan was to Korkie? A guardian of martial ways, reliable but as far from parental love as can be, as Satine had depicted with disdain-charged words, referring to her sister, despite her best intentions? Ben cringed. Why obsess over the monster of Mustafar, when the true monster was... _within_?

An irrepressible wave of intense, mixed emotions washed over him, prompting Luke to lean his head against his shoulder, as if he wanted to comfort him. Ben was caught off-guard. One of the first Force skills younglings developed was the ability to perceive emotions of other living beings, however Luke's seemed so sharp already. His affinity with the Force was remarkable, but that didn't come as a surprise, given his genes. Speaking of which, Ben realized that the boy looked a lot more like Padmé than he'd ever noticed, his expression as radiant as hers.

"Where are your aunt and uncle?" he asked, jerking himself out of his thoughts as a means of immediate survival.

"Outohtohdoo!"

Ben gave the boy a funny look, confused.

"They're _outdoors_ " Satine intervened.

"How do you do it?!" Ben asked incredulously.

"Didn't all those years as Qui-Gon's Padawan amount to something?" she tsked him. Qui-Gon used to be a notorious linguist and made sure to pass his alien-language knowledge on to all his apprentices.

"Satine, if we weren't in dire need of getting out of here, I would actually laugh"

Ben threw a look out the window, noticing that the sandstorm was dissipating. The risk of their pursuers popping out, albeit feeble at that point, was still real.

Luke squirmed and kicked in his arms, notifying his intention to be released. Good, a step in the right direction.

Or maybe _not_.

"Gahgah boom!" Luke screamed, pulling on Satine's robe, clearly wanting to be followed. The woman glanced at Ben, going after the toddler.

Ben knew they were supposed to be leaving, but how could they without giving the child the attention he was claiming? People could call him crazy hermit all they wanted, but he was not soulless. At least, that was what he liked to believe. And so, there he went, after a crazed toddler.

It turned out that Luke was quite the perfect host. Once in the kitchen, he rather impressively Force-pulled a jar of dry homemade cookies (which Ben saved just in time from smashing to the ground) out of a cupboard , then tried to feed his guests the crumbs of said cookies. After spreading a vat of blue yogurt about anywhere (from the floor to Satine's hair, much to Ben's horror), as hyped up as can be, he dragged his toy chest to the center of the room, emptying all of its contents on the yogurt-coated floor.

"A-tah!" Luke exclaimed, shoving the scale model of a Star Destroyer in Ben's face.

"Oh, I can assure you, young one, I know _these_ better than you can imagine" he guaranteed, reminiscing about the Clone Wars and the 212th

Luke simply looked at him intensely with those huge eyes of his, then began sucking on the Star Destroyer, pushing the toy deeper and deeper into his mouth as if it were a binky. Why didn't this visceral love for spacecrafts come as a surprise? Textbook Skywalker, plain and simple.

Afraid that he would hurt himself, Obi-Wan directed Luke's attention elsewhere by levitating a green rubber ball from the toy basket, deliberately ignoring his frivolous-use-of-the-Force-condoning conscience. So much for safeguarding one of the twins. Thankfully, the trick worked, so Ben could heave a sigh of relief, smiling almost involuntarily at Luke's shrill, enthusiastic shrieks while Satine looked on. He dropped and lifted the ball a few more times, his heart warming at Luke's joyful attempts to grab it.

All of a sudden, Ben detected a pair of sturdy, steady presences grow progressively neater in the Force, accompanied by the faintest of shuffling sounds, a telltale sign that Beru or Owen were approaching, and would soon barge into the house in all likelihood. He and Satine had already circumvented the Larses for the day, and didn't want to force the hand. Owen wouldn't pop out just now, would he?

His intestines twisting, Ben gave Satine a troubled look.

"Satine, we should really get going. _They_ 're coming, and I'm not welcome here"

"Not before saying goodbye to your protégé" was Satine's reply.

Instinctually, Ben was inclined to object her - terrifyingly accurate - statement, until, catching a glimpse of her face, he wavered, acknowledging her durasteel, incontenstable certitude.

Bowing his head, Ben did as instructed, turning to Luke:

"We must leave now, little one" he urged in hushed tones.

However, as he made for the kitchen's door, Luke - disappointed at seeing his game buddies leave so early - began crying.

"Ssh, Luke, I will be back I _promise_ "

He tried to convey his feelings through the Force, but it only served to turn Luke's whimpers into a full-blown tantrum. The boy's face turned beet red as he kicked and screamed. A few toys and pots levitated off the floor, spinning dangerously.

For a thousand Jawas. Blast Anakin genes.

Feeling useless despite his reputation as excellent negotiator, Ben attempted curbing the boy's outbursts.

"Now, now, no need to blow the entire hous-"

"KENOBI! What do you think you are doing?!"

Well. Things couldn't possibly get any worse. Could they?

Slowly turning, Ben and Satine found themselves face to face with...an enraged hippo. No, Owen Lars.


	16. He's a disgrace

**All right, Owen, we know you're angry, but why must you kick poor Ben around so much? Right in front of the Duchess, at that.**

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" _You already crossed the line long ago, in my book_ " growled Owen, eyes bloodshot as a wild strill.

"Ah, Owen. How nice to cross paths again" Ben greeted in a fashion that reminded him of Hondo Ohnaka a bit too much. From the corner of his eye, he could see Satine shaking her head, disapproval written all over her face. So much for throwing good diplomacy out the window.

"Don't even try it, Jedi. You can't fool me!"

"Wouldn't wish it upon anyone..."

Right in that moment, comedy sunk further into drama as Beru Whitesun crossed the threshold, entering the toddler-wrecked kitchen. At the sight of her worked-up husband snarling at the Jedi intruder, she released a small shriek, throwing her arms up in the air and rushing to snatch red-faced, crying Luke away from Ben's leg. As a response, Luke's face became even redder, his screams even shriller, so Beru turned around, set on retreating to the boy's bedroom, secretly glad to have an excuse to walk out of the scene...when she caught sight of the blonde Mandalorian who had paid them a - rather boisterous - visit six months earlier.

The disquietingly mysterious woman looked on the ongoing quarrel, silent but unafraid, as if she were watching Kenobi's back. Although slightly aggravated, no line creased her high forehead. Beru took notice of that, of the unwavering confidence mixed with a note of haughtiness in her posture, so unlike all the Anchorage friends or fellow moisture farmer wives she knew, and shuddered. To Beru, the woman was difficult to read, hence her intimidating aura, but if something had become unquestionably clear, it was that she _would_ stand with Kenobi - the man she had so tirelessly searched - no matter what, just as she herself would support her husband. Strangely, though certain she ought to be fearful, this awareness calmed Beru down. She picked Luke up, refraining from exiting the room, and walked closer to Owen.

"Who gave you permission to break into my property? If my hands weren't tied for the _reasons_ we're both aware of, I would have the Hutts take care of you!" Owen barked, angrier by the minute.

"We apologize, Owen. My... _associate_ and I saw ourselves forced to seek refuge from the sandstorm" Ben attempted.

Owen's eyes shot in Satine's direction and his frown deepened. He knew her. She had threatened to summon Mandalorian Supercommandos the day she'd showed up at his doorstep, anxious to reunite with Kenobi. Owen did not know anything substantial about her, however he held the conviction that any woman willing to engage in promiscuous behavior ***** with a self-contradictory Jedi wasn't to be trusted.

Ben continued: "Now if you will excuse us, we must retrieve our speeder bike and go-"

"Speeder bike. I noticed that old piece of junk parked outside, and had to wonder... since when do you own one, Kenobi?"

"It was abandoned"

"How come does it have the Hutts' logo on it?!"

"Owen..."

"You are here to protect Luke, you say? More like leading troubles right up our alley. Literally so! The Hutts may be off limits...but you know what is not? You know what is not, wanky wizard of sorts?!"

Owen's temple vein was bulging and throbbing so much that Ben seriously hoped the man would keep his blood pressure under control. Satine's penetrating gaze was fixed on him, her expression unreadable.

"A good ol' walloping, that's what is not! The area's moisture farmers would gladly join me in beating the weirdness OUT OF YOU!" Owen shouted to be heard over Luke's desperate cries.

"Owen, this is _ridiculous_ " Ben's voice was shaking ever so slightly, a detail which wasn't lost on Satine.

"Owen! Give it a rest, you're upsetting the boy!" Beru finally reprimanded her husband.

The idea of unsettling Luke seemed to tame Owen somewhat, for the man took a couple of deep, calming breaths and spoke with a much lower - albeit menacing - tone:

"Take your crappy speeder bike away. Far from here. And don't come back! Don't think I'm unaware of your periodical visits. This farce ends here, Jedi! I won't let you corrupt Luke as well"

Ben paused for a moment, weighing his words.

"I'm afraid, Owen, that making sure your perimeter's free of any threats is a priority, these days"

"Fine. Shove off, and the _threats_ will be gone for real!"

"Brighter than the suns, aren't we, Owen?" Ben muttered under his breath, crossed. On Coruscant, General Kenobi would have never dared displaying such a degree of defiance, but now what was the point of crazy old Ben being so uptight?

"What did you say?"

Scorn radiated off Owen, but Ben had already turned his shoulders to him, walking away, tugging at Satine's sleeve to encourage her out.

"Oh...nothing, I'd better hurry, while the suns are still bright!"

"Yes, hurry...away from here!" Owen shouted at his back.

Shaking his head, Ben wondered if things would ever improve between him and Owen. How could he even hope to teach Luke anything about the Force when even initiating a civil conversation with his foster parents was _light years_ away?

The moisture farmer, however, wasn't satisfied. It stung to let Kenobi get away with murder once again. It awoke long-forgotten feelings of insecurity within him. Still breathing heavily, Owen's eyes lingered on Satine's back, observing it intently. Suddenly, he got a terrible idea. His face brightened, shining of a manic light, with a cruel twist to it.

"Does she _know_? Did you _tell her_?" he yelled at the Jedi's back.

Ben froze. He literally froze. Owen was loud and braggart but he could be cunning when he wanted to. Evilly Spot-on, even.

 _Please Lars. Please. Not now._

Satine stopped abruptly, turning to look at the two men. She perceived Owen's foretasting of victory and Ben's visceral uneasiness.

Owen was triumphant, nearly mad in his excitement.

"You _didn't_ "

Ben sighed, his chest heavy.

"No, of course you didn't. Sincerity isn't included in your Code of conduct, is it? Cowardly, lying kind"

Satine sustained Owen's gaze. Ben stood silent, as if petrified, looking as if he had aged ten years in the span of ten seconds.

"Then I will enlighten her. Somebody has to. At least so she is aware of what kind of man she's _involved with_ " Owen spat the last few words with all the disdain he could muster.

Satine had yet to utter anything, but at the last sentence, her steely expression became graver.

Owen turned his neck so that he could face the Duchess, speaking directly to her:

"The day you came knocking at my door, you introduced yourself as a person who used to work with my stepbrother, the legendary Anakin Skywalker. You were adamant Kenobi would want to know where he was. Well, I have some news for you. Kenobi knows where he is. He knows it _very well_ "

Satine suppressed a gasp. Ben instinctively lowered his head, preparing himself to receive a blow where he was most vulnerable, where the protective armor of his Jedi teachings had left a lesioned gap

"Kenobi brainwashed my stepbrother under false pretenses of spiritual growth while in truth all he was doing was encouraging the beast within him. He drove Anakin away from his family and made him a killer, never taking responsibility for it. Then, when things went awry, and the young man turned against the Jedi, what did this good mentor father-figure do? He fought Anakin _to his death_!"

Satine wasn't making a sound.

Owen paused for greater effect, then continued, this time addressing Ben:

"Would you like to tell her now how you left him, dismembered and burning on that hell pit? No?"

Ben's color drained from his face completely.

"How can I allow him to influence Shmi's grandson, when he messed up with her son so irreversibly? The galaxy has suffered enough for the actions of this man. The truth is that..."

A choked sound left Ben's throat, Owen's words piercing through his heart like poisonous arrows.

"...he's a _disgrace_ "

Owen concluded, seemingly satisfied. Satine was stony. Beru looked somewhat embarrassed. Even Luke had fallen silent.

Ben was shattered. Owen had been ruthless, but he was right. He was absolutely right, no point in denying the truth. Ben had shied away from reality and, what was worst, he had deceived Satine - the only person who had showed him _love_ since Order 66. _A collection of half-truths and hyperbole_. That was, at best, what he was, as she had beautifully put it. He was disgusted with himself, now more than ever. Battling not to collapse on his wobbly knees, he dutifully awaited execution, Owen being the hangman, Satine the judge.

Satine spoke, at last, wielding the sword of long-due justice:

"Ben has told me _everything I need to know_ "

Ben widened his eyes, so did Owen. Neither of them was expecting that, from her part.

Satine gracefully took Ben by the arm, leading him away from Owen, away from the Lars homestead, and from pain. A fire burned low and steady inside of her, as she willed the shaken Jedi to stay strong, her thoughts clear and loud so that she could be certain he would perceive them.

Satine rode the speeder bike back to the hut, Ben curled up on the passenger seat behind her. No words were spoken. When they arrived, it was sunset. Satine personally walked Ben - now a wreck - inside, downright opposing his offer to dispose of the bike right away (which would have implied him disappearing in the desert for a few more days) since he was in no condition to undertake such a demanding journey whatsoever. She herself parked it in the rocky caves below his hut, rushing back inside as soon as she could.

They had a _long night_ ahead, full of unknowns.

What to expect from Obi-Wan? Silence? A heartfelt confession? Satine did not know. What she did know, was that the last thing he needed, was for her to turn her back on him.

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 *** see chapter 8**


	17. Tears won't fertilize this desert

**The aftermath of Owen's outburst. Heartfelt confessions. Satine is quite outspoken, in the end.**

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 **Mando'a dictionary:**

 **1\. agol = living tissue - meat, muscle flesh - animal or human, *flesh and blood***

 **2\. Manda = collective soul (spiritual concept in the Mandalorian religion)**

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Satine closed the door behind her back.

Ben was leaning heavily against the kitchen sink, his face turned away from her. He was struggling, he was hesitant, a war was raging inside of him. Within, there was a bleeding man; without, life went on.

What now? As a Jedi, he had always relied on meditation, or on higher-conscience levels of sharing with other like-minded Force-sensitives, to cope with problems. However, given the situation, he was not sure this would be enough. Not this time. Not there, not with __her__.

Satine was in no rush. She looked at Ben with compassion, silently willing him to retain his strength, as she always did. He perceived that, and it took his breath away. While waiting, she quietly began changing into clean clothes, buying him more time to define his course of action.

Ben realized he ought to break the wall of silence between them. Satine was open. Satine understood. Satine __knew__. Perhaps she knew it all, definitely more than she let on. She deserved to hear it from him, the disgraced, aberrant human being whom she cared about. The disgraced, aberrant human being who, despite everything, would __not__ betray her.

Gripping onto the sink for dear life, Ben stood taller, forcing his neck back to a fully erect position.

Darkness was creeping, the dimming lights of sunset casting a distorted projection on all objects, elongating their shadows in exaggerated, disturbing ways. His surroundings mirrored how he felt inside perfectly. How easy it would have been, to just give in to panic and find refuge deeper within himself, avoiding reality, postponing confrontation, delaying pain to dwell in a broth of self-pitying anesthetic, all for the sake of remaining in the comforting limbo of denial just a bit longer...and yet, Ben had made up his mind, choosing the only constant who kept him still anchored to hope: Satine.

Without turning to face her, Ben heard himself speak, almost physically fighting against his own body in order to do so:

"Satine...I-, I am sorry"

She slowly raised her head, observing his back intently. He could feel her penetrating gaze on his nape.

"I am sorry you are trapped here, with the Hutts taking over your spaceship and all..."

Bummer. How to begin this conversation?

"Don't be. It was to be expected. We will find some other way" Satine reassured quietly. Although initially dismayed by the loss of her transport, she realized there were more pressing matters at hand. She wished to clear Ben's mind of all energy-draining distractions, so that he'd feel safe to focus on the essentials: himself and his demons.

Ben partially turned to face her, revealing his ghastly appearance. Satine's eyebrows shot upwards for a moment, as she took in his pain. She walked closer to him, and Ben squeezed his eyes. Did she expect him to speak? Would she require it of him?

Satine studied him. He was afraid. Probably felt guilty. He did look scared...of her? She knew she could be intimidating at times but...Ben didn't deserve a cold shoulder. Not in the very least. Her eyes softening with empathy, she extended a hand, caressing his bristly cheek, conveying all the selfless care she could with that gesture. And Ben's heart melted, as he slowly leaned in her touch, opening his tired eyes to look at her, allowing her into his sorrowful soul.

He was so hurt. So relatable, also. Without waiting for him to make a first move, Satine took it upon herself to act, instead.

" _ _I__ am sorry" she whispered, still looking at him.

Ben grimaced, fighting the tears back with all his might. She wasn't judging him.

"It is all right to let go, Obi-Wan. You are __agol__ " she encouraged, her fingers still on his face.

More perceptive than a Jedi. He couldn't escape, but, deep down, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"You're too right. I am. Satine I...it haunts me. Every __single__ day. It...it shouldn't. As I shouldn't have...I should've... _ _finished__ the job!"

Satine's expression saddened alongside his.

"He was your family. Family __hurts__ "

Ben sucked in air, his emotions starting to spiral out of control. Or perhaps it was this sense of intimate safety Satine infused him with.

"I wasn't up to the task. Qui-Gon, he believed in me. He believed in him, he entrusted him to me. He gifted me with Anakin. I raised him, he raised me. It-it shouldn't have ended like __this__. In the Force, perhaps there's a logic...but would it be selfish of me to say that __I__ didn't want any of it for him? And yet...I couldn't protect him. I failed to, Satine!"

The first tears began streaming down Ben's cheeks. Satine held him as he unconsciously started collapsing on his knees, the weight of the Republic's fall, the Jedi deaths and Anakin's monstrous loss crushing him.

"He was like a flood, unstoppable, breaking through every dam. I witnessed it all, the pain and destruction he brought about, helpless to contain him. The more he suffered, the more he generated sufferance. Can you imagine it?"

"I can try to. It wasn't easy, with Bo"

Ben suffocated a pained yelp.

"It is...it is __terrible__. It is a __living death__. I loved him, Satine!"

"I know, darling"

Upon hearing the term of endearment, Ben shed the last of his inhibitions, allowing himself to cry openly for the first time in years. He leaned his head against her shoulder as they slipped to the ground, Satine wrapping her arms around him.

She was inwardly shocked, affected by Ben's all-encompassing grief. She knew Anakin had become the cornerstone of his existence, like Mandalore had to hers. Anakin was more than a brother, more than a son to her love, the one person Ben had fully dedicated himself to, all the while being faithful to his Jedi-ness, and still continued to dedicate himself to, through the protection of his son Luke. Her Ben, such a fine "father".

Shaking, the man continued: "Anakin was going astray. There were warning signs. Plenty of them, also. But I turned a blind eye to all the red flags"

Satine didn't know the exact details of this tragedy as of yet. But the more Ben disclosed, the more she realized that in the logic of the moment, they wouldn't matter much. The pain per se was enough of an explanation, the magnitude of the outcome obscuring the specifics of its history. Notwithstanding this, Satine swallowed a lump in her throat and listened to Ben.

"Anakin was special. Even after his knighting ceremony, when most Jedi typically go their separate ways from their masters, he still required mentoring and surveillance, and demanded it of me. As you know, raising him proved to be challenging for both of us, but he had come such a long way. I grew confident space and understanding were what he needed the most. I arrogantly thought I had it all figured out. He had suffered enough because of my rigidity, in the past. So I said _stop, Obi-Wan. Grant the boy a longer leash. Allow him to grow at his own pace, to express his full potential._ What started out as an onerous responsibility had become my _whole life_. Throughout the years, it became evident that I wasn't simply accomplishing my mission, but that I cared for him, deeply, in ways I could have never imagined. I thanked the Force countless times for this...universe that had opened up to me. Never did it brush my mind that Anakin would turn out to be a disappointment, let alone a grave _threat_. I even told him so, after Ahsoka deserted. I thought, sure, he might fail the Council, or let his emotions cloud his judgment but...I was aware, Satine, that there were things more important than the Jedi Order. I was ready to walk out of it with him, if the Force dictated so. But he...he struggled to understand my position on this aspect"

"You were never understood, Obi-Wan"

"I am to blame if the relationship Anakin had with his Master was flawed. I never had his full trust"

"There were _stronger forces_ at work" Satine stated fiercely, leading Ben to think that she knew exactly _who_ was at the heart of the matter.

"Stronger than Anakin's pride? Or mine?"

"As important as the relationship between the two of you may have been, you can't lose sight of reality. While you were fretting over being a good Master to your Padawan, _someone else_ was fretting over pushing a galaxy-wide political agenda"

Ben noticed her accent had acquired a more Mandalorian connotation as she pronounced this last sentence.

Satine inhaled sharply, staring at the ground. Then looked up at him.

"Emperor Palpatine" she said.

It wasn't a question.

Ben bit his lip, silently nodding. The long look they exchanged was more eloquent than a galaxy of words.

"Old, affable, conveniently understanding...am I wrong, Ben?"

Ben didn't answer.

"Isn't it how _he_ and his administration twisted you all? His peacekeepers-turned-soldiers?"

"We lived in a bubble"

"But Anakin did not"

"No, he never did" Ben admitted.

Silence fell again in the hut. Now it was almost completely dark. Then, Ben continued with his confession.

"Some Masters recommended I adopt an authoritarian approach with Anakin, but I never deemed myself wise enough to do so. I let him learn from his failures, confiding he would grow wiser. Let him pursue his passions, thinking he would figure out how to quell them. This included, of course, his _love life_. I should have kept a closer eye on him. He was young, after all, too young and too fragile. I should have imposed limits on him. But...I couldn't. How could I?" Ben took Satine's hand in his, squeezing it lightly. Satine felt warmth, and picked up right away on the connection he was attempting to make.

"He _was_ different, after all. So I thought...why not? Why not allow him to have what I could never have, if that was where his heart led him? The Code's stance on attachments doesn't specify what _actions_ are forbidden, it just exalts compassion and selflessness over possession and greed, so I thought he would discern good from bad. He had become so observant, for certain things, so _disciplined_. I was wrong, so short-sided. All I was doing was grooming him for slaughter at the hand of the Sith! I was his undoing!"

"Don't say this. You wanted the best for him" Satine found it harder and harder to speak.

"The best...can the "best" enhance a person's vulnerabilities? Our General duties brought us separate ways when he needed me the most. The thin ice on which Anakin was skating broke. He rampaged through the Temple...hundreds of lives were cut short by his blade, and that was just the beginning. Saying Padmé was heartbroken would be a severe understatement. She tried to talk sense into him, but it was too late. He...did...also..." Ben's eyes filled with tears once again.

Satine covered her mouth with a hand.

"He didn't!" It sufficed a look from Ben to know the truth.

"Oh no, no..."

"On Mustafar, he choked Padmé unconscious, and I wasn't able to stop it. Padmé, who was carrying his children, the reason he was manipulated into doing what he did. I realized right there and then that Anakin was _gone_. My duty, at that point, became very clear. Unbearably painful, but clear. I died a little bit with each blow that was struck by our clashing lightsabers. Having spent thousands of hours training him, I managed to survive his assassin fury. I cut all his limbs, after which he rolled down an ashy hill right into a lava pit, literally bursting into flames. I saw his flesh falling apart as he burned, those excruciating screams haunt me every night. It would've taken so little to terminate him. But I couldn't. I _couldn't_ , Satine"

"Who would blame you, Obi-Wan? Who could?"

"I rushed Padmé - who had entered labor in the meantime - to a medical station on Polis Massa. Initially, I thought she would survive, since her life Force was intact. Again, how wrong I was! She slowly declined, passing away minutes after giving birth. Till the very end, she was convinced Anakin could still be saved. She begged me to redeem him. So much _love_ for him..."

Satine's eyes were starting to become moist as well, notwithstanding her resolve to stay strong for Ben.

"Luke was in my arms the entire time. He was all wet from the womb and screaming for his mother, and I recall thinking that no matter how much he cried, she would never wake up. No matter how much I despaired, the past could not be changed. I looked at Luke, and I was instantly reminded of the dozens of younglings Anakin had slaughtered at the Temple, with surgical precision, without a second thought. Their agony was vividly perceptible through the Force. It made me sick, it was as if _I_ had killed them myself. How could he do it?!"

Satine silently wept.

"The rest...you deduced it, there's no point denying it. Organa took Leia under his wing, while it was decided that I come here with Luke, so that he could be raised by the Lars family. It was paramount to separate them. Needless to say the twins' origins are not to be disclosed"

Satine's expression became strained.

"Makes perfect sense! Little girl follows her mother's footsteps in an Alderaanian palace while her brother is stranded on a detestable, backward Outer Rim dustball! Oh, the joy! Couldn't have Luke stayed with you on a less uncivilized planet?"

"No. I am not up to the task. My duty is to protect him and...possibly train him, although I am not sure it will ever happen. Besides, I don't think Anakin would have wanted his son to be raised by me"

"Mmh, right, because his _first choice_ would have fallen on Owen, undoubtedly" Satine muttered sarcastically.

Ben shook his head, attempting to provide a justification.

"I never had a family, and it shows: I failed at raising a boy who once had one. I don't know what parental love is, I am incapable of showing affection. If I...lived under the temporary illusion of being able to, it's because I was fortunate enough to have Qui-Gon and Anakin set the example for me" he sounded disconsolate.

It wasn't true. Not at all. Satine knew it, she had benefited from his compassion countless times. He had given her hope during her darkest hours and had encouraged her to the light when everything else seemed to drag her away from it. Manda, seeing him like that hurt her almost physically.

"Obi-Wan" Satine snuggled closer to him, her voice softer "don't you say this. Stop attributing to external factors the existence of features that so unmistakably define you"

"But, it's the truth, Satine"

"I don't believe it. You are selfless, and caring, and considerate...more so than the majority of fathers, brothers, husbands and sons of the galaxy will ever be. Qui-Gon and Anakin may have inspired you, but there's a point you are missing entirely"

"Why?" Ben directed his sad, sad eyes at her.

Satine's orbs twinkled with a sweet light.

"Because it's in your nature, Obi-Wan. "

She pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

"You showed it to me, countless times, regardless of my deserving it or not"

Ben leaned his head against hers, then murmured: "I wish it were true. Of all my regrets, not having saved Shmi Skywalker from a violent death is probably the biggest. Never realizing the importance of Anakin's mother to him was unforgivable of me. A person with _normal feelings_ wouldn't have missed on anything as substantial as this. No Jedi Code could ever substitute a mother's love. When I finally understood, Shmi was dead, and Anakin had already embarked a difficult-to-unravel dark path. Anakin hated Tatooine, but here I can at least be at peace that Luke is staying with the last of Shmi Skywalker's earthly connections" Ben sorrowfully confessed.

"That's why you entrusted Luke to Owen and Beru, isn't it? That's why you tolerate everything. Oh, Ben"

Although technically not her son, the obnoxious moisture farmer had truthfully regarded Shmi as a mother. If there was anyone likely to pass on her values, it was him, at least in theory. Obi-Wan felt that was the best he could do to right his wrongs and honor Anakin and all the good things he used to be.

"I feel it would've been Anakin's wish, given the circumstances, yes. And...you know, for him I...would do... _anything..._ " Ben risked to lose it all together. Satine readily soothed him.

"I know, love"

For the first time that evening, Ben hugged her back.

"Owen doesn't know the whole story" he disclosed, holding Satine's chin up.

"No, he sure doesn't. Owen cannot understand. He has limitations and it's not his fault" Satine declared solemnly.

"No, Satine. Owen doesn't know...Anakin did not die"

Satine was seriously unsettled by this last statement.

"He...wait, he survived being reduced to a human torch?"

Ben paused, taking a deep breath, then pronounced the dreadful words, and Tatooine stopped spinning for the duration of the sentence.

"Satine, Anakin _is_ Darth Vader"

Satine knew _what_ Darth Vader was. Right before leaving for Tatooine, she'd been bombarded by propaganda images of the "new Imperial enforcer" back on Alderaan.

However, never, not even in her wildest dreams, she would've guessed _who_ he was.

Minutes, hours passed. Ben and Satine were still sitting on the kitchen floor, petrified by shock and strong emotions, desperately grasping onto each other as if their lives depended on it. The galaxy was such a dark, dark place, and now it had just become darker.

Ben told Satine about the japor snippet. About Padmé's dying wish and his sense of inadequacy at granting her a peaceful death. It was all terribly difficult to digest.

"I wanted to give her peace, at least. But I couldn't. Anakin is gone, vanquished by Vader" said Ben.

"You think it's too late for Anakin?"

"I'm afraid yes, Satine"

"Do you have hope?"

"Not for him. Hope in the form of Luke and Leia, there is reason to nurture. The wisest Jedi confide in them"

"All right. But what about _you_?"

"Dreams are sweet as long as they last. But that's what they are. Dreams"

Satine observed him for a long moment, trying to understand if what he was saying was a fruit of his convictions or a byproduct of a broken man. He put up with so much, it was unbelievable he could function as well as he did.

"Do you _want_ to have hope?" she asked.

The question struck Ben. He pondered the answer for a long time, but was too tired to pry one out of the depths of his soul right now. Satine was aware of it, she was momentarily ok with that.

Slowly, they fell asleep in each other's arms. Tenderly, gradually, for the first time in ages unafraid to face the unbottled demons the night would bring about.


	18. Growing closer

**After last chapter's hefty confession, the pace quickens over the course of this chapter and the next as we get closer to a...turning point.**

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 **Clone Wars flashback of the Mandalorian coup, right after Maul nearly succeeded claiming the life of the Duchess.**

 **Fast forward to the present: on Tatooine, following the Jedi's heartfelt confession, Ben and Satine grow closer.**

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 **Mando'a dictionary:**

 **1\. beskar'gam = armor made of beskar (typical Mandalorian iron - very resistant)**

 **2\. verda = warriors (archaic plural)**

 **3\. jetii = Jedi**

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 _Mandalore Sector, 20 BBY_

 _Obi-Wan was nervously pacing the white corridor of a clandestine space-bound medical facility in the Concord Dawn system, a parsec away from Mandalore. The fact that the place was rife with beskar'gam-clad Mandalorians would have been enough to drive him away under any other circumstance, but in that moment, all he could think of was Satine. The fallen Duchess' fate was uncertain, and not just politically speaking. Had it not been for the last-minute Nite Owl intervention, she would - Obi-Wan was in no mood to mince words - be_ dead _. Everything that had taken place (at various levels) was heavy on his conscience. He wasn't blaming Maul, although it was hard not to, indeed._

 _By that time, he should have already reported to the Jedi Council, but he wouldn't budge._ _  
_

 _A door swung open, revealing the charismatic head of the Nite Owls - or, more plainly, Satine's sister. She wore a strangely torn expression as she briskly urged Obi-Wan in._

 _Mechanically, he drifted inside, and his heart skipped a beat. Satine was on a surgical table. A substantial portion of her skin was uncovered, revealing a plethora of tubes exiting her body. And not only that._

 _Obi-Wan subconsciously walked closer to her, his soul shattering as he took in the minefield that she had become. Bruises everywhere, especially on her neck, standing out against bulging, strained veins_ _-_ _markers of respiratory distress. Darksaber burnt slashe_ _s_ _, testimonials to Maul's fury. Bite marks, from her days in prison._ Bite marks _. How savage. Savage, like the way they had attempted famishing her, as inferable from her gaunt looks._

 _"Kenobi, I cannot hold_ _my_ verda _any longer._ _Count yourself lucky I am backing your cover-up._ _You must report to your Republic_ _, now_ _"_ _Bo-Katan Kryze commanded._

 _Obi-Wan_ _'s ears_ _barely registered her voice. His fingers twitched, aching to intertwine with_ _Satine_ _'s_ _._ _A shiver ran down his spine._ _He had_ not hesitated _running to her rescue. Not even for a second_ _, regardless of the Republic's formal stance on the matter._ _Anakin's amusement, even_ _the youngster's_ _slightly disoriented denial_ _at acknowledging his Master's "unthinkable" defiant streak, flashed before his eyes. True, leaving meant formally disobeying the (reluctant) Council, but Obi-Wan had matured enough as a man to fearlessly stand on his convictions: he would do what he deemed right._

 _So to Satine's aid he had rushed. I_ _n the name of justice, and of_ _his commitment to a woman who - much like his kin - dedicated her life to the service of others. If asked,_ _though_ _,_ _he wouldn't know where to trace a line between the two, for_ _serving justice_ _was everything Satine believed in._

 _And yet, here she was, worse off than she'd ever been. Because of his intervention. Of his short-sidedness. Of the danger that came from his proximity. Of his weak spot._

 _Bo-Katan was growing impatient._

 _"Kenobi" she_ _started "don't make me regret..."_

 _Obi-Wan turned to look at her. She nearly flinched. His_ eyes _. So deep, so concerned. She had sworn she would never understand her sister's supposed "weakness", but this was unexpected. As had been, in truth, Kenobi's independent intervention in the first place. It signified the_ jetii _still retained a brain. Or, maybe, a_ heart _. Most of all, it proved his loyalty, and few things mattered more than loyalty, to a Mandalorian._

 _"Will it be all right?" Obi-Wan asked. The abusive medical station being what it was, he was concerned the Nite Owls wouldn't be able to procure the equipment or the know-how necessary to save Satine._

 _Bo-Katan_ _observed him intently. Obi-Wan felt scanned as he always did when Satine wanted_ _to pry something_ _out of him._

 _"Medical droids are on their way. She's not done with Mandalore as of yet. She will survive, you have_ my word _"_

 _The answer being satisfying enough, Obi-Wan gratefully nodded, turning to look at the brutalized Duchess._

 _How he longed to_ _heal her,_ _hold her hand..._

 _Longed to_ love _her?_

 _He did_ _. He did love her. That was precisely the reason why he couldn't be with her, nor see her, not even sporadically. He wasn't attached. He would have to let her go, let her be, for the greatest good._

 _Just like that, ignoring a wave of excruciating pain, General Kenobi exited, flying away. Away from his light._

 _Back to the present, in the Jundland Wastes_

Over the course of the next few weeks, Satine and Ben grew closer.

The Jedi's initial confession spurred the spontaneous occurrence of sincere, often heavy, conversations which allowed each other access to vulnerable and private parts of their souls. This level of intimacy was a first for both of them, since neither had really been so open to another person about themselves, nor had ever felt they could be, at that. As a consequence, a sense of reciprocal respect permeated the hut, elevating comfort to an all-time high.

For the first time since Order 66, Ben resumed regularly training in saber combat. Earlier on, his depression had prevented him from really concluding anything during sporadic, self-imposed practice sessions, but now things were slowly changing. Ben grew to appreciate the pros of exercising on sand and rocks: those harsh terrains were granted to render him stronger and more agile, drastically improving his performance on smooth surfaces like synthecrete.

Satine mostly observed his new-found vigor from afar and privately rejoiced, while she labored her own sorrows away by sweating and toiling over their vegetable garden. She found solace in the knowledge that the negative energy she delved into horticultural work would generate new, nourishing life.

A few days into this new routine, Satine stepped forward, asking Ben to train alongside him: she wished to become reacquainted with defensive techniques, lest danger present itself, so that she'd be ready to stand up for herself. This being said, it became a habit of theirs to dabble in wooden staff duels or try unarmed, Mando and Jedi-style defensive moves. Given the vast array of real-life experiences they could draw upon to shape their workout sessions, they never ran out of ideas. This intense physical activity generally took place towards sunset, when the temperature was at its most bearable. Training gave them purpose, allowing them not to lose touch with reality.

Ben saw Satine put effort into improving herself, and tapped her determination to summon his dormant inner strength. But that wasn't all: he also found these reciprocal encounter-clashes more sensual than he'd ever dared imagining. There was something irresistible to the fervent heat of their clashing bodies, to the tangible side of learning about the depths of another person's being, that set their eyes ablaze and aroused their senses beyond control. The training sessions would begin on the sandy plains next to the hut, or in the rocky coves beneath it, or even on its roof, and more often than not would end up in bed.

During later, subsequent times of solitude, Ben would look back at the memories he treasured of this golden period and blush. Because they certainly did strengthen their bond, he and Satine. Spiritually, carnally, on all dimensions, they did indulge.

Most days, Satine was content, happy. Ben perceived the secure satisfaction she derived from finally being able to be with him, to love him as she had always desired to, and be loved back. It was the silver lining in it all, to develop such a precious relationship in the very place that was meant to be the grave of his hope. It was simply her, him and Qui-Gon's Force-ghost, as it had been at the start of everything. Satine's presence had saved him, and now they were so connected. Yet, it was precisely because of this deep connection they shared that Ben came to know her growing restlessness. Live coals of a much-larger fire slowly crackled inside of her, a premonition that one day she'd be raring to rush to her people's aid. Ben had no doubt that, if given a chance, Satine would head back to Mandalore, death threats and all. That was a thought he pushed to the back of his mind as often as possible, electing to live each additional day he had with her to the fullest, but...he was aware she had been missing for too long of a time. And shying away from duty was not like her at all.

Ben knew a time would come when the calling of Mandalore would just become too strong to be ignored, and he sincerely wished that when this came to be the case, nothing would prevent Satine from turning her frustration and anxiety into action. He hoped her eventual departure wouldn't be hindered by anything and anyone. Especially by himself.


	19. A regrettable decision?

**Two years after the fall of the Galactic Republic and eight months after Satine's return to Ben Kenobi's life, the Lars family is getting ready to celebrate Luke's birthday.**

 **The little tyke's party is to be held at the Darklighters' estate, where young Biggs is turning seven. Spurred by Satine, Ben accepts to "partake" in the celebration, if anything to demonstrate to Luke that he will always be there for him.**

 **To answer Jxjxjx: the turning point will be at the end of next chapter.**

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 **You can read about the Darklighter family (Biggs Darklighter's lineage) on Wookieepedia.**

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 **Mando'a dictionary:**

 **1\. Mand'alor = title assumed by the sole ruler of the Mandalorian people.**

 **2\. talyc = bloody or bloodstained**

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"I am not entirely certain this is a good __idea__ " Ben stuttered, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

"Nonsense, Luke will be elated to see you!" Satine chirped at his side, fixing her hair.

"Oh, believe me, dear, it was never __Luke__ I fretted about..."

"Obi-Wan, I told you what I think: if you __want__ to be there for the boy, then you __should__ , regardless of Owen's approval!"

"Or lack thereof..."

Satine chuckled.

"Stop being so pessimistic"

"Pessimistic? __Pessimistic__ , you say? You've seen him!" Ben spluttered.

Satine, however, didn't seem perturbed at all.

"You are a Jedi. You lead by example. __Good__ example. If Owen is given reason to think you are a man of righteous principles, he will eventually reconsider his stance on you"

"Right. Showing up __uninvited__ sounds like a good start. He will definitely not lose any time pouncing on me!"

"He won't. Not while I'm around. I wouldn't allow him to come near you" she affectionately brushed his arm.

Ben was just beginning to think that Satine had become a lot sweeter lately, when she added with a glint in her eye: "Or else, it would be terribly unfair to the long list of people who've been queuing for a chance to kill you far before Owen!"

Nevermind.

Ben and Satine were getting ready to leave the hut. They were headed to a place that, normally, Ben would have avoided like plague: the Darklighter estate near Anchorhead. In three days - roughly the amount of time it'd take them to reach their destination - half of the galaxy would celebrate Empire Day. That meant that Luke Skywalker was turning two, a milestone Ben privately wished to witness.

As a Jedi, he wasn't accustomed to acknowledging such ephemeral, personal events, and the fact that Luke's birthday fell on the anniversary of his dear ones' passing was one more reason __not__ to rejoice. But, after hearing Satine's account of her most recent trip to Bestine's farmers market (where she'd overheard Beru and land "baroness" Mrs Darklighter plan details of a shared party for their kids) he felt tempted - perhaps even the slightest bit compelled - to affirm his presence in the life of Anakin's son by joining in the celebrations.

He wished to gradually let the boy on the fact that, as a Jedi protector, he would always be there to watch over him. He had never been more sure of this, especially after opening up to Satine about the child's origins. While discussing the matter with her, he had come to the conclusion that he'd better adopt a "gentile" way of thinking in order to achieve his aim, since Luke wasn't being raised at the Temple and would most likely not understand a Jedi communication style, especially at this early stage.

Moreover, he reasoned - perhaps seeking a more logical justification to what he would have regarded as a sacrilegious behavior until recently - he thought it wise to ascertain the soundness of these Darklighter folks the Larses appeared to frequent. Of course, he had heard about them, since it would've been hard not to for anyone living on Tatooine: Huff Darklighter, the head of the household, was a notorious land baron and food magnate, exploiting the planet's precarious agricultural conditions to his advantage and fattening his revenues by monopolizing the water supply, among other things. In light of this, Ben's concerns only appeared legitimate.

This being said, off to the Darklighter estate they went.

During the trip, Ben ruminated over his somewhat rash and emotional decision almost constantly, keeping most thoughts to himself, wishing not to burden Satine with his own worries and preoccupations over Owen or the fact that this whole stunt would risk exposing them like never before.

The journey proceeded as planned without major inconveniences, so that by dawn of the third day the white, round pourstone roofs of Anchorhead peeked out from behind a hill of fine, chalky sand. From there, finding the Darklighter estate in the Great Chott salt flat south of the trading town was no hardship: the family truly lived in a sort of desert manor, of the kind most Tatooine inhabitants - and even a few of the Hutts themselves - could only dream of. Ben honestly couldn't fathom how gruff Owen could have fallen in the graces of the renowned entrepreneur, but he had to admit that if the curmudgeon had indeed managed to do so, he would be impressed. It didn't hurt that Luke would most likely benefit from such a friendship, provided it didn't constitute a threat in the first place.

Ben had made clear he did not intend to _actually_ join in the celebrations in a conventional way, since it would suffice for Luke to sense his presence from afar, however, before sneaking their way into the property, the pair hid behind a cluster of rocks to change into fresh clothes and make themselves presentable _just in case_. Three days' worth of sweat and sand sure wouldn't mix well with the Darklighters. Or Owen, for the matter.

Suddenly, a rumble of speeder engines announced the arrival of a procession of people. From their hideout behind the rocks, right outside the property, Satine and Ben witnessed a small crowd of visitors gather themselves in front of the main gate, greeting each other earnestly if somewhat stiffly as they oohed and aahed their way inside. When Ben got sight of the Larses' distinctive bright orange speeder, a lump inexplicably formed in his throat.

Once everyone had transitioned indoors, Satine and Ben proceeded with their plan and - thanks to a couple of Mando break-in techniques - surpassed the tall electrified gate (a precaution against bandits and Sand People), circumvented the iron _chevaux de frise*_ and sneaked into the vast courtyard. For someone who prided himself on being one of Tatooine's most prominent personalities, Darklighter sure showed little hesitation barricading his family as far away from the planet's dirt and misery as possible.

As they cautiously advanced through the cured flowerbeds and tidy rows of date palms, Ben noticed several pure-white gravel paths leading to squared concrete boxes here and there. Since a few of these garages' doors were left open, he was astounded to notice just how many skyhoppers, vintage speeders and desert vehicles lied around, including a spit-and-polish PL-90 luxury speeder. The buildings, even the shabbiest storage shed, were made of precious marble or granite slabs with exquisite imported wood false ceilings, instead of the more common pourstone. Ben thought it must cost a fortune to keep them all air-conditioned, not to mention the "hush money" and bribes the Hutts certainly demanded of the land baron to be allowed to maintain all those assets.

"Looks like Darklighter's figured the Hutts out" Satine chimed in, apparently reading Ben's mind. Or, perhaps, his dropped jaw.

"You can bet he did"

Finally, crawling their way to the main building (where all the guests and owners alike had gathered), Ben and Satine crouched behind a large jacinder hedge. The main door was unmistakably festooned for a children's party. It was with a pang of sadness that Ben realized _he_ had never done anything _remotely_ of the kind for Anakin, when he was a child. Deep down, he knew the sentiments he was experiencing were uncalled for and inappropriate, but he couldn't help any of it from happening. Curling up against the hedge as a physical response to the onset of his sadness, he was vaguely aware when Luke's lively, squirmy Force-signature hooked onto his, a sign that he had succeeded notifying the birthday-boy of his presence. Ben found himself smiling, in spite of himself.

 _"Your parents would have been so happy to see you today, young Luke"_ he communicated through their budding Force-bond, though unsure the toddler would be able to decode the message's nuances.

Two hours passed in quite the predictable manner: while the actual party unfolded in the home, a silent pity-party was taking place outside. Ben's hand was balled in a fist, his eyes fixed on the ground as he secretly wished to be swallowed alive by the bushy hedge. Satine, who sure wasn't oblivious to Ben's emotional turmoil, had grown progressively restless.

"Ben"

"Mmh"

" _Ben!_ " she nudged.

Ben had been so self-absorbed that it took him a while to notice Satine was talking to him.

"Yes?"

"We can't hear anything from here. Maybe you should get closer"

He sighed, skeptical and depressed-sounding.

"It wouldn't be wise to get any closer, I'm afraid"

Satine narrowed her eyes.

"Didn't you want to ascertain the trustworthiness of this land gentry?"

"You said Lady Darklighter seemed neat and proper at the market"

Satine nearly face-palmed herself.

"... _neat and proper_...Obi-Wan, if you're trying to pass as anything less than a Jedi, you're doing a terrific job at it!"

"What am I supposed to do? Barge in and _introduce_ myself, provided Owen doesn't strangle me first?!"

" _I_ am not supposed to be telling you what to do! What about getting closer to that _talyc_ door instead of hiding behind your hyperbolic, doomsday scenarios, for example?!"

"Seems reasonable, coming from one of the Most Wanted women in the galaxy!"

"Oh, _Mand'alor_ , you sure know how to be irritating!"

"You would be a terrific _Mand'alor_ indeed, my bloody dearest...wait. Satine. _Satine!_ " Ben hissed, trying his best not to yell, as the unbearable Duchess scurried towards the house on all fours, settling under an open window next to the main door, a triumphant little smirk on her stubborn face. So hardheaded.

Ben sighed. Well, since she was out in the open...what was the point of him staying in hiding anymore? He felt foolish abandoning the tranquilizing refuge the hedge offered, but ever since when, since Satine's arrival, had he done something strictly within the limits of his comfort zone? Shaking his head while sustaining her defiant gaze, he joined her, pressing his back against the wall.

In the meantime, indoors, two-year-old Luke was getting overstimulated. All these new people surrounding him confused him, and they seemed a bit wacky, or a bit gross, or a bit unreasonable depending on the case; but he sure was enjoying all the extra attention and delicious tidbits that were periodically shoved into his mouth. Aunt Beru and uncle Owen seemed uncharacteristically distracted with the hosts. Biggs was such a cool dude, Luke _really_ wanted to emulate him, but the older boy didn't seem to care too much about him...and then there was _something else_. A stable, reassuring, powerful presence that had him so addicted. In the Force, Luke recognized his buddy Ben right away, squealing with delight. He really wanted to find him, but Ben was elusive, too far away to be precisely pinpointed...until he got closer! Yes, he was closer, right behind the wall! Elated, Luke released a small shriek. _Of course!_ Ben was playing hide-and-seek, and wanted to be found by him! Without thinking twice, the merry boy toddled to the front door, patting his chubby hands on it, attempting to open it with his strength first, with the Force then, but it was too heavy. Luke was disappointed, so he started whining.

Owen Lars was quite uncomfortable. Had it been up to him he would've celebrated with cake and a birthday song at home rather than mingle with Tatooine's water lord himself and his relatives in what was turning out to be a _complicated_ situation, but Beru had insisted so much they change their routine, for once. Sure, she was friends with Biggs' mother and all, but the Darklighter milieu was not one he was at ease frequenting, especially when he himself had fallen behind in water payments to Huff. All of a sudden he noticed Luke banging on the door and decided to go after him, glad to have an excuse to walk out of the conversation at hand.

"Luke! Where are you headed, little rascal?"

As a response, Luke banged on the door, his eyes fixed on it as if entranced.

"Luke, come on, it's rude to bang on other people's doors..."

The boy released a high-pitched shriek, then Owen heard something that made him wonder if his ears had played a trick on him:

"Be-en!"

Ben and Satine were pricking up their ears, attempting to decode the muffled sounds that reached them and pick up on anything that could be of any relevance to their inquiry. Things began going downhill when Ben understood what Luke was about to do: force the door open.

" _Ben-en!_ "

"There's nobody outside!" Owen could be heard saying, a note of denial-filled exasperation in his voice.

Instinctively, sensing imminent danger, Ben stood up.

"Satine, we'd better get out of dodge!" he whispered frantically, trying to anticipate quirky Lars' moves.

The moment he stepped on the doormat, the door sprang open.

"YOU!"

 _Why?_ Why did every encounter with Owen have to begin with theatrical surprise-revelations? Ben didn't even attempt protesting, nor justifying himself as he felt the moisture farmer's poisonous eyes on him. The chatter in the living room stopped abruptly. He thought he heard a slight metallic clang against the floor, a sign that Beru had dropped a teaspoon. Out of shock.

"Well, this is perfect, Kenobi" Ben told himself.

Owen looked like he might burst any moment.

To make things worse, wanting to affirm his position as "boss" of the house, Huff Darklighter stood up in all his multi-layered, silken-fabric impressiveness, dragging himself to the entrance, a no-business expression plastered on his otherwise expressionless face.

"Introduce yourself, stranger" he thundered at Ben.

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 ** _* Cheval de frise; pl. chevaux de frise = "Frisian horses" was a medieval defensive anti-cavalry measure consisting of a portable frame (sometimes just a simple log) covered with many projecting long iron or wooden spikes or spears (definition source: Wikipedia)_**


	20. The will of the Force

**As we all know, nothing ever goes smoothly in Kenobi's life, and soon the party is shaken by an unusual threat. Satine's help proves to be vital, giving rise to a new, unexpected opportunity.**

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 **Mando'a dictionary:**

 **1\. Utreekov = fool**

 **2\. beskar = Mandalorian iron**

 **3\. Davaab resol'tor = execute a just order**

 **4\. kal = knife**

 **5\. Vaii cuyir gar ijaat? = where is your honor?**

 **6\. Aruetyc dala = traitor woman**

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 _"Introduce yourself, stranger"_ Huff Darklighter thundered at Ben.

The Jedi, sweating cold sweats, opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it.

Thankfully, Satine was there to save the day. She pirouetted right in front of Huff, partially shielding Ben's body with her own.

"This is Owen's _brother_ , Ben. He wouldn't have missed his beloved nephew Luke's birthday for anything in the world!" she chirped using her most charming tone, all the while looking at Owen straight in the eye. Perhaps it was just Ben's impression, but he thought the sturdy moisture farmer looked the slightest bit less wary.

"Isn't it, Ben?" she swiftly turned to direct her feline gaze at Ben, arching an eyebrow with pressing expectation. The man swallowed, feeling like a deer in the headlights.

"Y-yes, su-surely" he stuttered, his voice feebler than Yoda's during the flu outbreak.

A subdued groan left Owen's throat.

Huff squinted his cunning eyes, weighing up the situation. Eventually, with patron-like demeanor, he opened his arms, stepping aside to let the new visitors inside the house.

"In the Darklighter household, there is always room for an extra guest. Please, make yourselves at home!"

Owen clenched a fist, fuming. Although very much wanting to impart that freakish Jedi a lesson, he had his hands tied. Actually - he realized with a twinge of annoyance - right in that moment, he was no less a potential victim to Huff than Kenobi. They both were on a razor's edge, albeit for different reasons. Just like _brothers_ , as the Mandalorian had cheekily put in. Brothers in misfortune, to be precise.

The next minutes were a flurry of overlapping sentences and chaos. As Beru plunged herself in a heated explanation as to _why_ she had omitted including Owen's brother in the guest list, all the while exchanging frantic looks with her husband, Ben awkwardly looked around the living room, his legs suddenly as stiff as wood. What he perceived as heaps of women, men, children and droids was staring at him, inviting him to sit on the couch, their expressions a mixture of suspicious and genuinely curious. Their voices reverberated in his sensitive ears and their words confused him. After failing to properly answer the question of an elderly lady, earning a disapproving glare from Satine, he realized he sincerely couldn't help his awkwardness, not after having shied away from society for so long. Returning to a non-threatening crowded environment after two years into hiding was traumatic, something he hadn't expected he would ever do again. A whirlwind of repressed feelings resurfaced, pushing him to the verge of sickness. He was reliving the Jedi Temple. He was reliving the Clone Wars. He was reliving Coruscant.

"Get a grip, Kenobi" he imposed himself.

As the afternoon progressed and Jawa Juice was served, it became apparent that the overall situation was not only embarrassing, but precarious to say the least. There appeared to be an ongoing Darklighter family feud, vastly complicating each and every interaction that took place in the large living room, Huff's money being the bone of contention.

Saying that Huff was at odds with his ex wife Esdre (Biggs' mother, who had invited Beru in the first place) would be playing it down. Esdre, having recently fallen ill with an incurable disease, demanded that Huff proclaim Biggs his sole heir. She seemed to have no qualms laying her problems out in the open for everyone to see, arriving to the point of using the invitees' presence as a weapon against her ex-husband's insensitivity. The tension was made even worse by Huff's resentful second wife, who was cradling her infant daughter, Dera, in her arms. On a recliner sat another contender to a portion of the Darklighter goods: Jula, Huff's sarcastic younger brother, while his wife Silya sat at the kitchen island, attempting to distract Beru and a couple of other moisture farmer guests (clients of Huff's) with small talk and gossip - with little success.

Needless to say, Ben and Satine were as tense as a high-voltage trellis. Out of all the potential complications they'd envisioned, _this_ was the one they would have never expected. Soon enough, they fell prey to the rambling musings of a strange individual who turned out to be Huff and Jula's cousin, a certain Trepler. The man was sitting on the corner of the long leather sofa, smoking a tobacco-free pipe. He appeared to be in his sixties and quite well-off, perhaps even more so than his cousins, as inferable from the Corellian suit he was wearing. As it turned out to be, he was the owner of the largest starship hangar area in Mos Eisley - a profitable, albeit risky, business. The man talked gibberish, so much so that it was hard to draw a line between facts and fiction. Upon hearing his complicated plot theories, Ben bit his lip, exchanging fleeting looks with Satine.

"The Emperor is actually a Muun from the Banking Clan. The Tonith, the Damask and the Card families control _everything_. They plan on taking over the galaxy, and, ladies and gentlemen, now I will let you in on something that _I know_ " he turned secretive all of a sudden. Ben and Satine blinked without saying a word.

"The Muun _are_ the Jedi! The whole collapse of the Jedi Order story is actually a travesty to rule the galaxy behind our backs! This is why I support the Hutts" he affirmed with conviction.

This being said, Ben sat rigidly as an impaled stockfish.

"So the Emperor is a Jedi?" Satine asked barely containing an amused huff, unable to stop herself. However, she regretted it almost instantly: giving Trepler a free hand hadn't been a good idea at all. Having an audience sure overexcited him, a nice change from being constantly avoided by everyone, even his closest relatives.

"That's exactly what I was trying to say!" Trepler exclaimed.

The only satisfied person of the "party" was Luke, who, oblivious to all the venom and weirdness going on between the adults, was practically bouncing. Ben being in the same room as his was a _dream come true_ , so he enthusiastically toddled back and forth from the play area to the sofa, dragging Biggs, Rasca (Biggs' cousin) and his new toys along to make the Jedi's acquaintance. All of this happened under Owen's disgruntled eyes. Satine rested her hand on Ben's thigh from time to time, reassuring him with her touch. Ben, on his hand, barely had any time to process how _surreal_ the situation had turned out to be. Danger was behind the corner, but so was a disarming sense of normalcy, almost painful in its unexpectedness. He realized things could've gone much differently without Satine's intermission, and for that, he was grateful.

Eventually the Darklighter magnate grew tired of juggling back and forth from one embarrassing argument to the next, so to divert the general attention from his private matters he directed his clever dark eyes at the strange, never-seen-before couple. There was something definitely intriguing to those two surprise visitors. They claimed to be close relatives of the Larses, but, to Huff's experienced eye, they looked as distant from Owen as can be. It didn't matter that they were clad in baggy desert robes, their appearance betrayed them, both in terms of body language (upright and collected) and demeanor. The interactions between the two Lars brothers, moreover, seemed a bit off, as if there was no love lost between the two; but Huff recognized he was in no position to judge after subjecting his guests to his own, humiliating family situation. Curiosity getting the better of him, he addressed Ben jovially:

"So...Ben. How do you like Anchorhead? Forgive me, I took the liberty of assuming you don't hail from the area, since nobody, out of our coterie, seems to have made your acquaintance before" Huff was doing his best to be friendly-sounding, but to Ben, the innocent question felt more like an interrogation by Mace Windu. All the guests' eyes were now directed at him like a handful of sharp arrows, silence falling in the room almost instantly.

A few droplets of cold sweat formed on the Jedi's forehead.

"That's correct, sir. We live on the other side of Tatooine, actually, but decided to pay Luke a visit since it'd been...ahem, a long time since we could enjoy my brother's company" he replied as convincingly as possible. Huff's prying eyes were so fixed on him it felt painful, however it wasn't until Owen grunted his disapproval aloud that Ben felt like the situation may actually spiral out of his control.

The coarse throaty sound wasn't lost on the land baron, anyways. Arching a bushy eyebrow, Huff turned his neck at Owen:

"I didn't know you had a brother, Lars"

Ben saw the moisture farmer's face turn as blank as a sheet, and feared for the worst.

"Owen is Ben's half-brother" Satine intervened in the two men's stead, averting a possible disaster. The least Owen and Ben interacted, the better.

"They are sons of the same mother, but of different fathers" she continued.

Though still on the lookout, she could see Ben relax his tense shoulders a bit. She had no idea how much her words meant to him, especially the indirect association she had made about him and Anakin being children of the "same mother". The impenetrable language of his own wasn't so impenetrable to her, anymore.

Huff's attention was immediately captured by Satine. For some reason he couldn't quite pinpoint, the high-cheekboned woman seemed _familiar_. He could've sworn he had seen her somewhere, though he wasn't exactly sure _where_ nor _how_. Unlike her relatives, she exuded charisma, at all times. Wishing to appear hospitable, he smiled warmly at her.

"And you, my lovely lady, are...?"

"I beg your pardon, Mr Darklighter, so inexcusable of mine not to have introduced myself. I am _Katan_. Katan Merrik" she bowed slightly, suppressing an amused smirk. This undercover thingy shouldn't have really entertained her that much, but she couldn't help it.

Ben, on the other hand, almost choked on his own saliva. Katan Merrik? _Seriously_? Out of all the possible names she could've picked?

 _Well, always better than keeping your own surname, Kenobi._

Huff straightened his waistcoat up: "So, madame Merrik, I gather you and your husband are not in the same business as his kin?"

Satine bit her lip, suddenly more aware of Ben's weight next to hers on the sofa. Should she deny Darklighter's assumption? No, it would only complicate things further. So well, _husband_ it was.

The ping-pong match-like conversation continued for a while, keeping Ben, Owen, Beru and Satine (who was doing the bulk of the answering and - most importantly - temporizing) on edge. Everybody in the living room was now so taken with nosing into the new guests' lives that when Biggs - a charming, self-assured kid - asked his parents permission to ride a vehicle from his father's collection, nobody bothered answering him. Seconds later, Biggs could be seen rushing outside with his cousin and other friends his age - sans Luke. The blonde toddler seemed upset, so he crawled his way under Ben's legs and stayed there, roughly letting the Jedi know how his "friends" had rejected him through their Force connection.

 _"This is something I can relate to"_ Ben replied through the bond, and Luke whined.

 _"Never fear, it is always better than being stuck on this sofa making up improbable stories for survival"_ he gingerly added, at which the child squinted his eyes, slightly dumbfounded. Ben smiled a bit at the funny expression. Incredible how a two-year-old could make him relax...wait. _Something_ didn't feel right. Ben was abruptly jerked out of his thoughts, perceiving an elusive but steadily advancing, buzzing disturbance in the Force.

He suppressed the urge to give in to panic. The threat felt real, though still too hazy to be exactly pinpointed. It was precisely this uncertainty that troubled him. Greatly so. In an effort to corner the elusive presence, he began jerking his head in all directions, quickly alienating himself from the living room's affairs. Satine noticed something was wrong (how could she not?) so she searched his gaze with insistence, hoping for an explanation. Ben shook his head and frantically looked back at her for a few seconds, enough for her to get the message. The disturbance grew closer. Ben stood up, picking Luke up and clutching him safely in his arms. Through the boy's wisps of white-blonde hair (which were tickling his face as Luke squirmed), he made out Beru's horrified expression, but in that moment, he couldn't care any less about it, nor about Owen's disgruntled groans: protecting Luke was his one priority. Satine imitated him standing up, confused and alarmed. While the Darklighters seemed oblivious to everything, the Larses were beginning to pick up on those subtle cues, and reacted by staring at Ben as if he were some sort of possessed warlock. Not even a minute, and Owen was on his feet, catching Darklighter's attention.

"You disgraced, crafty _swindler_!" Owen not-so-subtly hissed at Ben.

Huff coughed, believing - like the rest of the room's occupants - Owen to be referring to none other than himself. After all, one cannot pronounce the word "swindler" without expecting the head of the family to feel called upon, in the Darklighter household.

"...I _never_ should have trusted your better judgment!" Owen barked.

"Lars, please care to explain us what on Jabba's name is happening...?" Huff pompously demanded.

"It's a trick! I KNEW IT!" Owen began yelling, losing his temper, his eyes fixed on Ben.

Ben (who on his hand already had enough troubles as it was, trying to figure the threat out as well as devise a way to use his Jedi abilities without undermining his cover up) wondered with a note of exasperation why Owen's "pressure cooker"-like temper had to be so ill-timed, at all times, when, out of the blue...

BOOM!

An explosion. Smoke everywhere and alarm bells going off in all corners. Owen fell to his knees, yelling from the surprise. Ben's senses flew over Huff's hoarse protests, baby Dera's cries and Esdre's terrified screams, wildly searching for the source of all this chaos. He pressed Luke closer against his chest, worried he might get frightened; but the boy had simply fallen silent, fully attentive to his surroundings. Such a good little Skywalker.

The blast had dug a huge hole in the wall, slabs of marble and plaster detaching themselves from the ceiling in a cloud of suffocating dust, adding to the overall confusion. Ben could have sworn he had sensed Satine snorting in the Force. _Why couldn't anything go smoothly, even just for once!?_

However, left with no time to react, he was unprepared when a helmeted man stomped his way inside, heavily armed with two DE-10 blaster pistols and...a sinister-looking, handmade _suicide vest_. He made his grand entrance blasting a protocol droid in the head, sending it flying in the air in a flurry of sparks. If everybody had been scared earlier, now they were panicking with terror. Ben and Satine managed to exchange a look amid the confusion, all their non-verbal thoughts channeled through that simple gesture.

The terrorist, though probably pleased to have instilled fear among the bystanders, had his mind set on one objective only: Trepler Darklighter, the weird uncle.

Once ascertained nobody inside the home was equipped to challenge him, the dangerous intruder walked straight to his victim of choice, cornering him and grabbing him by the neck, while unclicking one of his guns and pointing it randomly at the opposing door, where all the guests had gathered.

"Nobody dare leaving the room!" he thundered with heavily accented voice "Or this vermin's brains are going to remain splattered on your floor forever, Darklighter!"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" yelled Huff. His cousin Trepler was trembling, face as blank as a sheet, forcibly immobilized in his executioner's clutches.

"You know full well what the problem is" the man spat at Trepler, suddenly removing his helmet. If possible, the man's face turned even blanker.

"Nobody seizes my spaceship and gets away with it, you filthy loan shark!" the terrorist screeched, tightening his grip on the man's throat.

"TREPLER! WHAT IS HE TALKING ABOUT?!" Huff screamed, red-faced.

"SHUT UP!" the terrorist screamed back, losing his temper and blasting a shot in the air. It worked. Huff retracted, looking as if he were about to collapse.

Ben _knew_ he had to do something. Ignoring a plea for help, turning his head the other way face an injustice, leaving the weak to fend for themselves (terrorist included - with his Jedi mindset Ben saw him as in dire need of help) were all things that went against his nature and his vocation. He itched to act...but how? Using the Force - let alone his lightsaber - would jeopardize his safety and, indirectly, Luke's. Remaining inert would put everybody else's lives at risk.

Satine, on her hand, was thinking hard. She had identified the terrorist as Mandalorian right away: his DE-10 blaster pistols, helmet and Concordian inflection immediately gave him away. Initially in denial, her jaw almost dropped to the floor when she realized not only that this man had once been subjected to her rule, but that she actually _knew_ him. Of course! It was the same Concordian deserter she and Ben had spied upon at the inn in Mos Eisley, two months earlier*. Her guess was that he had spent that time trafficking in illegal trades and making a living out of dirty jobs, with Trepler Darklighter being caught in the middle, somehow. Simultaneously, she had passed those same weeks _training in hand-to-hand combat_ with her beloved Jedi. Satine pursed her lips in a sharp blade, a rush of adrenaline taking over her. Having been Duchess of Mandalore for nearly two decades put her in a position of duty. It was her - more than anyone else in the room - who held the responsibility to teach the man his place, she thought with a hint of boldness.

A piercing scream shot through the wrecked living room. Apparently, while the Concordian had been busy threatening Trepler, Esdre had attempted comm-linking the Gamorrean security in Anchorhead. Of course, this piece of information was driving the assailant mad, pushing him to the verge of insanity. He pulled a remote control out of a pocket, holding it high above his head so that everyone could see it.

"One more misstep and we are all going to BLOW UP!" he spluttered.

Esdre was crying hysterically at this point, so was Silya. Beru and Owen were flat on their stomachs, hoping that the floor would absorb them. For once, Owen was not trying to snatch Luke out of Kenobi's grasp, recognizing - in a time of need - just how advantageous it could be to be under the wing of a Jedi.

Turning back at Trepler, the terrorist wasted no time punching him in the face.

"I want my ship back!" he spat.

Bruised, tortured Trepler spat some blood, then mumbled something incoherent.

"Speak _louder_!"

"I am afraid...it is...impossible" Trepler replied.

"Why so?!"

Trepler, the crazy man that he was, decided to be sincere right there and then: "...because I sold it to an Imperial officer. It was a good quality ship. And its cargo of _beskar_ was a fine bonus, worth a reasonable amount of gold. I commend it to you..."

But the terrorist wasn't listening. His eyes bloodshot, he looked like he might execute Trepler on the spot.

" _Utreekov!_ " he hissed "My whole life...on that ship...now GONE!"

With a swift movement, the Concordian extracted an ancestral _kal_ out of a pocket, and pressed it against Trepler's throat " _Davaab resol'tor!_ "

Fearing for the worst, Satine glanced at Ben, whose brain wheels she could almost see turning in his head. Young Skywalker was still nestled in his arms, and there it would be best for him to remain - she reasoned. Well, it looked like she might just relieve Ben of his duty, for this once.

Having made her mind up, under everyone's incredulous eyes, Satine ran towards the Concordian, practically jumping at his throat. She distinctly heard Ben's gasp as she knocked the knife out of the man's hand, only to be slammed against the floor in return. Ben looked like he might join in the confrontation any moment, struggling to accept leaving Satine on her own devices, when he saw her kick the opponent from behind, effectively bouncing back on her feet. At that point, the man pointed his blaster at her, only to elicit a reaction from Satine:

" _Vaii cuyir gar ijaat?_ " she roared, wearing her best tigress expression.

At which, the Concordian opened his eyes wide, clearly not expecting another Mandalorian in there. She had called upon his honor for a righteous confrontation as equals (if she was unarmed, he could not use a weapon against her) and due to his upbringing he could not deny it to her. After all he wasn't afraid: she was a woman, and older than him at that. They circled each other like two strills, the man's confusion buying Satine some time to study her opponent.

At the same time, the Darklighters and their guests were all holding their breath, Satine a sort of goddess-like hero, to be standing up all by herself against a suicidal perpetrator. Ben was sweating profusely, Luke the only thing that still kept him anchored to the spot. Why was it so hard keep fear at bay? He was afraid for her, but he also wanted to trust her abilities; the same ones he had helped sharpen. _"Protect the boy"._ That was what he could sense when he reached out to her. That was what she was thinking intensely, wishing for him to perceive. She was in for the ride with him, he had always known it, but now the full extent of her resolve was disclosed to him. Protecting others. That was what they were meant to do all along.

Finally, with a wild yell, the Concordian prepared to strike, charging against Satine, when, all of a sudden, his face inches from hers, he stopped abruptly in his tracks, staring at her.

" _Aruetyc dala_ " he whispered, incredulous.

" _Aruetyc dala!_ " he repeated, this time angrily. Before anyone had time to realize what was happening, the Concordian fled the scene and the living room released a collective sigh of relief.

Satine, on the other hand, stood as if immobilized, panting.

The man could now be seen running across the courtyard for the exit.

 _He had recognized her_.

Satine gasped, frightened to death. Paradoxically, she was more scared now that her identity had been uncovered than moments earlier, when she'd been about to engage in a potentially fatal confrontation. Now what? The Concordian would speak, she was sure of it. He would speak, endangering Ben, Luke, the Larses. She felt desperate, _destroyed._ How careless she'd been. Her eyes filling with tears, she turned to look at Ben, who had released Luke and was running towards her, an all-knowing look on his face. He took her hands in his, sensing distress, and even _guilt_.

"I am sorry, Ben. I should never have pressed you into coming here..."

He felt heartbroken, and was about to say something, when...

A loud, crashing sound reached their ears. They all rushed outside, towards the source of the noise, Huff up front. An accident. There'd been an accident on the gravel path outside one of the speeder boxes. Biggs was on the ground, groaning in pain.

Esdre shrieked hysterically, rushing at his side: "My little boy!"

Huff, on the other hand, was gloating. Having examined the scene, he proudly declared: "Attaboy Biggs! You saved the day, son! Hehe, just like his daddy..."

Not far from Biggs, a crippled, fuming, slowly smelting 22-B Nightfalcon speeder bike - ideal for races - laid on its side; the lifeless, incinerated form of a body trapped under its overrider. The Concordian. Young Biggs had apparently accidentally ran him over while trying out his father's "toys", and the collision had caused his suicide vest to detonate. He was _dead_. So was the threat of being uncovered. Satine pressed a hand against her mouth, then turned to Ben, hugging him and burying her head in his chest, a whirlwind of contrasting emotions taking over them.

Trepler - battered and bruised, but otherwise looking strikingly unaffected, limped his way to the scene, promising Huff that he would rebuild his wall and pay for all the damage and trouble he had caused, then, almost without warning, he turned to Satine, shaking her hand.

"You saved my life, madame Merrik. I am indebted to you"

Satine smiled a little, her heart still sad, deep down.

"For once in my life we do agree with you, Trepler" Huff and Jula nodded in unison.

"Without you, we probably would all be dead now" Huff declared, then turned around to face Ben, patting him on the shoulder "You are such a lucky man" Ben's guts stirred. It was true. Having Satine in his life was a privilege of the highest kind, a treasure to cherish.

"You seem to be more than familiar with the Mandalorian culture, milady" Jula observed out loud, looking at Satine.

"It's right. My roots are Mandalorian, indeed" Satine confirmed, realizing there would be no point denying it now.

"Mandalorian!" the garrulous Trepler exclaimed "I always finalize _great_ deals with Mandalorians!"

Ben cringed, so did the Darklighter brothers.

"Right tomorrow at dawn I will have a _huge_ cargo freighter shipped to Sundari, departing from Docking Bay 86 in Mos Eisley, did I tell you I own several starship hangar areas..."

As Trepler blabbered his way to new Pindaric heights, realization suddenly hit Ben. He felt lightning struck, the will of the Force revealed to him right in that moment. Of course. It all made perfect sense now: the Larses being invited over at the Darklighters', he and Satine participating, Trepler the starship hangar owner approaching them, the Concordian attack, Satine taking charge, Trepler being saved and owing Satine his life, the Mandalore-bound cargo...it was all so that Satine could travel back to her people. Ben knew of her frustrations. She'd been happy up until now, but he wasn't sure Tatooine would always be enough to her. _He himself_ probably would not suffice her forever.

Ben bit his lip, suddenly as sad as the day after Order 66. Her leaving would mean...would probably mean...that they would never be together again? He couldn't contact her, she knew that very well. He was to remain in complete isolation. For the shortest moment, Ben selfishly considered keeping his insight to himself and heading back to his hut with Satine as if nothing had happened. But then, looking at her, he realized with a pang in his heart that he couldn't. She was so bright, and beautiful, and capable...he couldn't ask of her to remain on that desert prison alongside him. Mandalore sure wasn't a rosy alternative...but Ben knew that the Force had things other than a lifeless wasteland in store for Satine. She was like a bird, wishing to soar back to her beloved heights...and he loved her. It was only natural he ensured her happiness.

Swallowing hard and forcing himself to smile, Ben did one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life taking Satine by the hand, walking a few steps away from the Darklighters and turning to look at her in the eye.

"Satine...maybe you should go, too"

"Go nuts like Trepler? No thanks, enough of it for the day...wait. What do you mean?"

"You should board that cargo freighter to Sundari, Satine. See...coming here wasn't without purpose"

"But...what about you? And Luke? I don't want to leave you!" she sounded almost desperate.

"Satine, I will be fine. Thanks to you, I've healed. I am not the same man you met eight months ago, and I will always be here, watching over Luke. You, on the other hand...Mandalore needs you. Your Clan needs you. Korkie needs you, so does Bo-Katan. You're the glue that keeps them together. You have the experience, the contacts, the know-how...you're irreplaceable. And I would never forgive myself if the Empire took over Mandalore, and you regretted not having been able to do more because you were stuck here, with _me_..." he said, desperately attempting not to sound as destroyed as he actually felt.

"Oh, Ben" Satine looked like she might resist his offer.

"Please, go" he kissed her hand, his expression pained.

"Ben, I will be back, I _promise_ " her voice cracked. She was aware that leaving most likely meant being away for several years, if not more. She was aware that leaving could mean she would never make it back to Tatooine. The unknown was so painful it hurt. But if nearly two decades of being in love with a Jedi had taught her anything, it was that she should have faith, and believe in the intangible. Believe in the _Force._

Satine caressed Ben's cheek, looking at him in the most loving way possible. He was right about Korkie, her Clan, her sister. It hurt her to admit it, but he was right. It was infuriating to have found a man who understood her so well, who respected her so much, and to be forced to leave him behind, at the same time. He didn't deserve that hellish desert penitentiary. When she had met Ben, she had hoped she could talk him into abandoning Tatooine, but then she had come to know about Luke. Truth was, she had come to respect Ben's choice. And love was also about letting go.

"I will love you always" she whispered, as he leaned in to kiss her.

The next morning, at dawn, Satine left Tatooine aboard the cargo ship.

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 *** look at chapter 13**

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 **So, Satine is GONE. Now what? Here, part one of this story comes to an end. Part 1 focused on "Ben and Satine on Tatooine". Part 2's focus will be different, and probably feature more characters.**

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 **End of PART 1**


	21. A Mandalorian interlude

**A trip down memory lane, when Satine was just a girl trying to find her path in life, Bo-Katan was starting to feel betrayed by her family and the Mandalorian Civil War raged on.**

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 **Mando'a dictionary:**

 **1\. Kalevala = Satine Kryze's homeplanet**

 **2\. verd'goten = traditional Mandalorian rite of passage in which a Mandalorian youth was accepted as an adult.**

 **3\. Mando'ad = child of Mandalore.**

 **4\. aliit = family, Clan, identity.**

 **5\. vod = sister or brother.**

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 _Kalevala, Mandalore, 38 BBY_

It was a dry, hot summer day in Kalevala's ancient capital city.

Satine Kryze was home for the holidays, quite glad to have graduated from the Diplomatic Academy of Coruscant. Finally, she could enjoy some long due freedom.

Harsh Clan disputes had given rise to an outright civil war which was ravaging her world and the neighboring ones, threatening already-weak economies and millions of lives, but, truth be told, all Satine could care about in that moment was her newly-found, inebriating self-determination. It wasn't like she didn't care about her people's fate, she just didn't want to get involved.

Let us not mistake her reluctance to participate in public affairs for indolence. Actually, the opposite was true: she had loved Coruscant's progressive mindset and her courses at the Academy. She had distinguished herself as a capable, insightful student. Being the daughter of a Clan chieftain, the intricacies of Mandalorian politics were no secret to her, and it was with fervent zeal that she followed her father's whereabouts, proving herself capable of offering valuable advice in a number of circumstances. And it was precisely because of this that she desperately wanted _out_.

Satine had never really fit in among the Mandalorians. Always a sensitive, deep spirit, her "nonconformist" ideas were frowned upon by elders and peers alike. Therefore, it was with a practical - and most definitely fearful - mindset that she had reached the conclusion that it would be best for everyone involved if she steered clear of Mandalorian politics. She would leave it up to someone else to step ahead with new proposals. Someone more well-liked and fitting. It wasn't like _she_ – out of all the people – would be able to make a difference, after all. She would pursue other options and – for the first time in her life – was savoring the pleasure of sketching a liberatingly selfish life plan.

That afternoon she had pinned all her drawings on the wall, taking breaks from classifying her Mandalorian butterfly cocoons to admire them from time to time. A cartoonist? A wildlife biologist? An architect? An archaeologist? Or even a cabin girl on an Unknown Regions discovery ship? So many interests, yet nothing that really felt like the _right_ path to pursue. She didn't know what would be of her, but her indecision still didn't alarm her. As long as she was the creator of her own destiny, she would be happy. Thrilled by this new empowering sense of self-direction, Satine smiled to herself. Alas, her good mood was short-lived, for her younger sister stepped in her room without knocking.

"Father wants to talk to you" the redhead sternly announced.

"If it's for the meeting with the Clan elders, I have no intention of going" Satine replied, standing on the ground of her new convictions.

"Well, then go and tell him yourself, if you don't mind. I am not your private harbinger!" Bo-Katan snapped.

She was livid, and wasn't going great lengths to conceal it. At twelve, the time for her _verd'goten_ was nearing. The talented _Mando'ad_ that she was, fearless Bo-Katan had been looking forward to proving her worth for a long time, but Clan Kryze wasn't planning on any ceremony for her: in such gruesome days of bloodshed, chieftain Adonai – the girls' father – thought it wise to postpone his youngest daughter's debut into a warrior society, lest an initiation ceremony send the wrong signals to his allies and enemies alike.

While this gimmick made a lot of sense in the larger context of war, it made none to Bo-Katan, who only saw it as a sort of betrayal from her _aliit_. As of late, nobody even bothered explaining _anything_ to her anymore. One thing was braving the _verd'goten_ , failing and facing ostracism as a result of that failure; but being denied the _chance_ of putting herself on the line was a whole different story. The fact that she seemed to have become _invisible_ to her own kin was the greatest form of humiliation. Observing less deserving peers than herself advance positions in the Mandalorian public sphere while her own progress was being kept on hold, Bo-Katan felt as if her wings had been unjustly clipped. Had she resembled her older sister, she would've probably withdrawn into her inner world, ravaged by a sea of insecurities. But Bo-Katan was no Satine. She was concrete to the core, born to wage and fight wars with Myrmidonian resolve. Therefore, the more she sulked and brooded over her _aliit_ 's misgivings, the more a desire for rebellion boiled within her wounded soul. It was only a matter of time before she _exploded_.

Satine looked up at the younger girl from her desk, realization suddenly dawning on her. She reluctantly placed the empty cocoons back into their wooden case, aware that her sister needed something that she hadn't been good at providing as of late: her irreplaceable _support_. A fleeting sense of guilt coursed through her, noticing for the first time how much her own self-centeredness had blinded her to the younger girl's struggle. Despite being quite a few years younger, Bo-Katan had _always_ been there for Satine in her hour of need, protecting her from bullies with innate Mando grit since she could barely walk. She had always been her tiny hero, a lively flame in the dark. Satine bit her lip. Would she ever be able to be the same to Bo-Katan?

"Something's disturbing you. What is it, _vod_?" Satine timidly asked, hoping that her words would come out sounding thoughtful, rather than stiff. She didn't know why she seemed to have lost spontaneity around her sister.

"Don't _you_ dare calling me that!" Bo-Katan barked.

"What…? I see. You are upset because your _verd'goten_ was postponed" Satine attempted sympathetically.

Bo-Katan didn't reply. She squinted her eyes, looking hurt.

"Fear not: I am sure that after this war is over, you will get your opportunity to shine. All you need is patienc-"

"It is easy for you to talk!" Bo-Katan yelled, a long vertical line creasing her juvenile forehead "You always had it easy!"

To Satine, this rejection was tantamount to being stabbed in chest. She jolted, startled.

Right in that moment chieftain Adonai, their father, entered Satine's bedroom without announcing himself, his battle attire on.

"Bo…" Satine whispered, sounding vaguely desperate.

But it was too late: trying to salvage the situation was like attempting to hold water with bare hands, for Bo-Katan had already stormed outside, turning her back to her family for what would be the first of many more times to come.

A steady, deep voice with an unforgiving ring to it brought Satine back to reality:

"Leave her"

"…she's so upset, I must go after her…" Satine exclaimed, deliberately going against her father's suggestion. She didn't care about what he would think of a defiant daughter, not anymore.

"Leave her"

"Father, I…" Satine began, annoyed at him and not even bothering to conceal her feelings.

"You must be ready, Satine"

Silence fell in the room, Satine's ears ringing. She knew where this conversation was headed. She had seen a tete-a-tete with her father coming, especially after distancing herself from the political duties that were expected of her ever since graduating from the Academy.

"What for?" she asked, nearly panting.

"After the war is over, civil rights and reconstruction will be in the talks again" Adonai affirmed, his steely eyes fixed on his daughter "and that's where your input will be vital"

Satine shook her head: "I already told you, father. My calling is not politics. I would rather not get involved" she affirmed, recalling how and why she had reached this conclusion. She was absolutely set on remaining uncompromising, as long as her future was concerned. The very future that her father sought to claim.

"It is not about what we want, Satine. You were born into a prominent Clan. It is not a choice to give back to the Mandalorian society, given our advantage. It is a _duty_ " Adonai countered, his posture proudly erect but his voice tired-sounding.

"I can't see why I can't "give back to the Mandalorian society" _while_ staying out of politics at the same time. Can't I contribute through science, or art, or... " Satine mumbled.

Adonai walked towards the wall where Satine had pinned her drawings, brushing them with a long, rough finger.

"I'll tell you why: I toured the poor province of Ruus. I met villagers, simple people. They recently went through a devastating famine, and would sell their souls to the devil for a bite of food. While your biggest problem here was choosing how best to distance yourself from _your roots_ , Clans are settig the weak and the helpless up for slaughter, there"

Jackpot. Adonai sure knew how to play his cards right with each one of his children. As soon as sufferance was mentioned, guilt began to kick-in, paving its way to Satine's heart, and what could've looked as an unwavering resolve not to reconsider her position crashed almost instantly.

Satine held her head with both hands, squeezing her eyes, then let go of it. When she spoke, it felt as if every word pained her: "Why _me_? Why? I am not fitting to rule here. I could never convince my schoolmates to follow me, let alone an entire planet...or more. And you are aware of that, Father. You never thought highly of my ideas. You even sent me off-planet to try and shape me into something more _respectable_. What made you so desperate as to change your mind, now?" Satine vented, unafraid of speaking her mind.

"The winds are changing, Satine, so is the face of Mandalore's future victorious ruler. A ruler who will bring much-needed innovation about and fight ignorance, all the while governing as an absolute monarch" the aging, battle-worn warrior confessed.

"I don't like this absolute way of ruling. It distances us too much from the people. It feels dictatorial. Why does it have to be like that?" Satine confessed, her fingertips wet from all the anxiety.

"Tell me, daughter, do you deem the people of Mandalore ready to forsake the figure of an absolute leader?"

Satine stood silent, trying to picture masses of ignorant or traditionally-minded hordes obeying to a liberal, modern ruling figure. The prospect was as much appealing as it was impossibly visionary in the current-day Mandalorian context. She swallowed hard, the sort of reaction that Adonai had expected.

"Precisely. Times are not mature for that. But something else is"

"What?" Satine asked with a hint of trepidation.

"You are. Long after I've passed, you will take over the reins of Mandalore. Somehow, I've got a feeling that you have in you what is needed to achieve what I - and my allies - never could. I might be a fool, my wayward daughter, but rarely in my life have my insticts ever proved me wrong"

Just as he finished this setence, a huge, mushroom-shaped, blindening cloud raised itself in the distance, covering the sun. Bombs, threatening to destroy every last bit of civilization and ecosystems there were left. It was with that apocalyptic scene dominating her field of vision, and with her tired-warrior-father's words playing in the background that Satine realized, for the first time, that her life did not belong to her. And it should _not_ belong to her.


End file.
